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THE 

HAPPY-THOUGHT 
STORY BOOK 





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“Oh, I couldn’t eat a laughing pig!” said Betty, 

Piige 14- 













































































































































THE 

HAPPY-THOUGHT 

STORYBOOK 

iy 

BERTHA M. HALL 





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Illustrated bj Florence Liley Y)xmg 

LOTHROR LEE & SHEPARD CO. 

BOSTON 





















Copyright, 1926, 

By Lothrop, Lee and Shepard Co. 

All Rights Reserved 
The Happy-Thought Story Book 



PRINTED IN U. S. A. 


IFlorwooO ipcees 

BERWICK & SMITH CO. 

NORWOOD, MASS. 


APR“«'26 





CONTENTS 


PAGE 

The Laughing Pig.9 

Janet’s First Umbrella.21 

The Little Red Bathing-Suit . . .32 

Dan’s Playmate.46 

The Invited Guest.59 

Winning the Prize.70 

The New School-Box.87 

A Real Thanksgiving.99 

The Pansy Beds.112 

Mischievous Tim.135 

Ruth’s Dream.158 

Thursday. .176 


[5] 




















ILLUSTRATIONS 


“Oh, I couldn’t eat a laughing pig!” said 
Betty (Page 14) . . . . Frontispiece 

FACING 

PAGB 

Janet and I Started for school . . . 26 


Looking up, he saw two little figures in over¬ 
alls . ..... 36 

He came back with a bone he had been 
saving.58 

Two happy little girls came up on the 
veranda.68 


Just then, Miss Moore came out . 
“The car’s coming now” . . . , 

“I’m listening,” his mother said 
Doris took her hand again .... 
This made a nice drag .... 
“Who are you?” I asked . . . , 

Thursday backed out, shaking the lost 


82 

“ 94 

. 102 

. 124 
. 152 
. 172 
bag 194 


[7] 






A 


THE 

HAPPY-THOUGHT 
STORY BOOK 

THE LAUGHING PIG 

S ATURDAY was a wonderful day 
to little Betty Alden, because all 
sorts of things were likely to 
happen on that day. Daddy was sure 
to bring her something in his pocket, or 
in a funny-looking bundle. Sometimes 
it was a flat bundle, and sometimes a 
long, slim one. The Saturday before, 
he had brought her a small broom, and 
to-day she was going to help Mother by 
sweeping the piazza and steps. 

[9] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

There was another reason why Betty 
liked Saturdays. She was very fond of 
her doll-babies, and had the whole day 
in which to take care of them. But, 
best of all, Saturday was baking day! 
Betty’s mother could make gingerbread 
boys, and wonderful saucer pies. On 
special days, Betty had a dainty, frosted 
cake all her own. 

Betty trundled her dolls back and 
forth in front of the house until they 
were fast asleep. Then she pushed the 
carriage under the lilac-bushes, where it 
was shady, and left them. 

“I’m going to sweep now,’’ Betty told 
her mother, as she reached for her 
broom. 

“All right,” called Mrs. Alden. “Be 
sure to make your broom go into the 
corners.” 


[lo] 


The Laughing Pig 

After Betty had swept the front 
piazza, she went around to the back of 
the house, walking softly past the lilac- 
bushes. Running up the steps, she 
sniffed the warm air coming from the 
kitchen. 

“Seem’s if I smell cookies. Mother!” 
And Betty flattened her nose against the 
screen door. 

“No,” said her mother, “you smell a 
spice-cake IVe just made for Daddy. 
But I’m going to make cookies, and 
pies, too. Would you like to make 
some thimble-cookies?” 

“My twin babies are asleep. Mother. 
They’re under the lilacs, and I might 
not hear them, if they should wake up 
and cry.” 

“Very well; suppose I give you a sur¬ 
prise to-day,” said Mrs. Alden, as she 

[II] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

began to break some eggs into a bowl. 

“O goody, goody!” cried Betty, danc¬ 
ing around with her broom. “I’ll wait 
out here until you call me.” 

Mrs. Alden mixed the dough for the 
cookies. After cutting out enough to 
fill her pans, she slowly rolled out what 
was left. 

“I wonder what Betty would like!” 
she thought. Then her eyes twinkled, 
and she began to use her knife. 

“I hope the heat will bulge out his 
sides, and put a kink in his tail,” she said 
to herself, as the “surprise” went into 
the oven. 

Half an hour later, Betty heard her 
mother laughing. 

“Is it ready?” shouted Betty. 

“Yes,” answered her mother. “Come 
and see if you like it.” 

[ 12 ] 


The Laughing Pig 

Mrs. Alden laid the “surprise cookie” 
on a white cloth to cool, and Betty 
climbed up in a chair to look at it. 

“Isn’t that the sweetest pig!” she said 
happily, resting her plump little arms 
on the table. “He’s so fat, too! And 
—why. Mother, he’s laughing!” 

“Yes,” said Betty’s mother, “he’s 
laughing. He looks as though he had 
played a merry trick on us, while in the 
oven, and wanted everybody to laugh 
with him.” 

Just then, the grocer-boy came in. 
Saturday was a long day for Tom. He 
had to work hard, and had no time to 
play. 

“Look, Tom!” and Mrs. Alden 
pointed to the table. “Here’s some¬ 
thing to make you cheerful for the rest 
of the day.” 

[13] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

Tom stared at the cookie. And a 
wide, boyish grin lighted up his face. 

“A laughing pig! He must have 
had a jolly time in the oven,” he ex¬ 
claimed. “How much will you take 
for him, Betty?” and Tom pulled a 
handful of loose change from his 
pocket. 

Betty smiled and shook her head at 
Tom’s joke. No amount of money 
could buy that pig! 

“I’ll not forget that cookie all day, 
Mrs. Alden,” he said, picking up his 
basket, and they heard him laughing, as 
he ran down the walk and drove away. 

When lunch time came, Mrs. Alden 
put the cookie on the table beside her 
little daughter’s plate. 

“Oh, I couldn’t eat a laughing pig!” 
said Betty, standing him up against the 

C14] 


The Laughing Pig 

sugar bowl. “Would you want to, 
Mother?” 

“No,” said her mother, “we can make 
better use of him than that. When you 
go to the laundry to get Daddy’s collars, 
you may take the pig with you. We’ll 
put him in a small basket, and I’m sure 
you’ll meet some one who needs to 
laugh.” 

“My, what fun! You do think of the 
nicest things. Mother!” 

So Betty and her laughing pig started 
out on a pilgrimage. She had not gone 
far before she met a little girl, who was 
crying because she had fallen down. 

Betty stopped in front of her, and held 
out the basket. “Marjorie,” she said, 
“just see what I’ve got!” 

Marjorie wiped her eyes with the 
back of her hand, and peeped into the 

[15] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

basket. With a look of wonder, she 
rubbed her eyes again. 

“Why, Betty,” she giggled. “It’s a 
pig cookie, and he’s laughing!” 

“So are you,” cried Betty. “Isn’t it 
fun to see a pig laugh?” 

When Betty got to the corner of the 
street, she turned around and Marjorie 
waved her hand. “I’ll tell Mother 
about it!” she shouted. 

A little farther along was Uncle 
Abe’s fruit-stand. The boys had been 
teasing him, and he eyed Betty crossly 
as she walked over to him. But Betty 
was not afraid. She thought he needed 
to laugh, and sliding the cover off the 
basket, she held it out to him. 

Uncle Abe looked at her round, dim¬ 
pled face; then took the basket in his 
big, brown hands. A smile soon 

[i6] 


The Laughing Pig 

chased away the frown when he saw 
what was in it. 

“Ha, ha, ha! A laughing pig!” ex¬ 
claimed Uncle Abe, slapping his knee. 
“Fve seen a dog laugh, but I never saw 
a pig laugh before.” 

Still chuckling, he went over to the 
fruit-stand, and picked out two rosy- 
cheeked apples. Putting them into a 
bag, he pointed to a window across the 
street where a child was sitting. 

“That’s Mary Lee, and she’s alone all 
day because her mother goes to work,” 
said Uncle Abe. “You go over and 
give her one of these, apples, and let her 
see your funny pig.” 

A few minutes later, two small heads 
were bending over the basket. Uncle 
Abe rubbed his hands together in a 
pleased way, as the children’s laughter 

[17] 


The Happy-Tbought Story Book 

reached him. “The very next time 
those boys bother me, I’m going to think 
of that laughing pig!” 

After leaving little Mary Lee, Betty 
trudged along until she came to an open 
field, where the boys were allowed to 
play ball. Two boys were rolling and 
tumbling on the grass. At first, she 
thought they were playing; but no, they 
were quarreling! What should she do? 
Betty looked at her basket, and walking 
over to the boys, held out her “surprise.” 
One tousled head bobbed up, and then 
the other. 

“What yer got?” asked the older boy 
with a scowl. 

“Take a peek!” said Betty invitingly. 
As the boys sat up, she placed the basket 
between them, and slid off the cover. 

[i8] 


The Laughing Pig 

“Whew, Jim, isn’t that the funniest 
thing,—a laughing pig!” 

Jim peered into the basket. “It sure 
is!” he said, lifting a face wreathed in 
smiles. “Did you make it?” he asked 
Betty. 

“No, Mother put him in the oven, and 
he came out laughing. And he smiles 
at everybody who looks in the basket,” 
she added, turning from one boy to the 
other. 

The boys grinned at each other, and 
Betty, feeling sure that they were friends 
again, took her wonderful pig and 
started for home. 

That night, Betty had a long story to 
tell her Daddy when she showed him 
her “surprise cookie.” 

“Everybody had to laugh. Daddy, 

[19] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

when they looked at my pig!” concluded 
Betty, as she put him back in the basket. 

“And everybody forgot, too,” said her 
Daddy. “Marjorie forgot to cry. Un¬ 
cle Abe forgot to be cross. The little 
girl forgot she was alone. And the 
boys forgot to quarrel.” 

Betty snuggled closer against her fa¬ 
ther, the basket held fast in her arms. 

“Wasn’t it nice. Daddy,” she said 
softly, “that my pig had just the kind of 
a smile to make so many people happy?” 


This story originally appeared in “The Christian Science 
Monitor.” 


[ 20 ] 


JANET’S FIRST UMBRELLA 


T he weather was so warm, 
one bright morning in early 
spring, that the doors of a big 
department store had been thrown wide 
open. April breezes danced in and 
out, fluttering the handkerchiefs and 
laces. The sun streamed across the 
floor, making a path of gold in front of 
the counter, on which were a pile of 
children’s umbrellas. 

A dark blue silk umbrella lay near the 
bottom of the pile. 

“O dear!” sighed the little umbrella, 
trying to wiggle into another place. 
“It’s awful to have so many brothers and 

[ 21 ] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

sisters that you can’t get away from 
them. How I wish somebody would 
buy me!” 

“No one needs an umbrella on a 
bright, sunshiny day like this,” said a 
little black umbrella. 

“But look at this ivory ring on my 
handle! That ought to bring a sale. 
It is just right for a small hand to slip 
through. Wouldn’t you like to keep a 
nice little girl dry on her way to 
school?” 

“No,” snickered the black umbrella, 
“I’m a boy’s umbrella. Don’t you see 
my straight handle? No folderols 
for me!” 

Just then a young man and a white- 
haired lady stopped at the counter. 

“Will you please show me some chil- 

[ 22 ] 


Janet’s First Umbrella 

dren’s umbrellas?” the young man 
asked. The old lady quickly added 
“We want a pretty one.” 

“For how old a child?” inquired the 
clerk. 

“‘Eight years,” said the gentleman. 

“Her name is Janet,” chimed in the 
lady, “and Fm her great-grandmother.” 

The clerk smiled, and the blue silk 
umbrella murmured: 

“Such a pleasant voice! I wish she 
could see me with this ivory ring! If I 
could only get on top, I’m sure there 
would be a sale!” 

“I don’t want them to see me,” whis¬ 
pered the black umbrella. “I’d rather 
stay here than get soaking wet.” 

The little black umbrella, however, 
was pulled out with a jerk and held up 

[23] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

for inspection. The lady shook her 
head. Stepping back away from the 
counter, she looked over the pile. 

“Oh, here is one!” she said, chuckling. 
“Look, John, this has a handle just like 
a lady’s. Janet will like that.” 

The clerk removed some of my 
brothers and sisters, and opened me up. 
I was wrinkled, of course, but they 
didn’t seem to notice that. 

“Our Janet always comes home from 
school on rainy days with her face as 
wet as the flowers after an April shower. 
She loves the rain, but I think she’ll love 
this blue umbrella, too.” And the lady 
caressed me in a loving way. 

I longed to tell them how hard I 
would try to keep Janet dry, but we are 
not allowed to talk when the clerk is 

[24] 


Janet’s First Umbrella 

making a sale. So I just waited while 
they twirled me around, and opened and 
shut me several times. 

At last, they decided to buy me, and I 
was wrapped up and tied, as though they 
thought I would do my best to get away. 
I wanted to see where I was going, but 
the heavy paper made it seem like night, 
and a good time to take a nap. 

After a while I awoke. I knew I was 
riding in something. When I left the 
factory where I was put together, I rode 
on a Ford truck and then on the train. 
But this was quite different! I guessed 
it was one of those limousines that often 
stopped in front of the store. I lay still 
until the car drew up to a curb, then a 
big hand picked me up, squeezing my 
ribs together, until I almost squealed. 

I wondered how soon I would see 

[25] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

Janet! But the lady took me upstairs, 
and I was put in a dark closet. My, 
how stuffy it was behind all those 
clothes! I could scarcely breathe with 
the paper on. At last a light peeped 
under the door. Then I heard voices. 
Janet had come in to bid her grand¬ 
mother “good-night.” 

“Daddy says it is going to rain to¬ 
morrow, Grandma. It’s just fun to go 
to school in the rain!” 

“When Grandma was a little girl, 
they used to say ‘April showers bring 
Mayflowers.’ I hope it will rain, too, 
because the rain often brings other 
things beside Mayflowers.” 

“What other things. Grandma?” 

“You wait and see!” said she with a 
knowing smile, as she kissed Janet. I 
knew she was thinking of me, and won- 

[26] 



Janet and I started for school.—P( j(yc 27 





























i 

\At 


• V 



Janet’s First Umbrella 

dered if Janet would like to carry a blue 
silk umbrella. 

Sure enough, the next morning it was 
pouring, and just before Janet started 
for school, I was taken out of the closet 
and carried downstairs. 

Janet’s father cut the strings, and in a 
twinkling, Janet had pulled off the pa¬ 
per. Then she held me by the handle, 
and looked me over for a long minute. 
How her eyes danced! I wanted Janet 
to like me, but I could see that she would 
give me some careless handling. She 
was one of those children who hop and 
skip most of the time. 

So Janet and I started for school, and 
we had a dizzy time of it. In looking 
up to see if I were over her head, she 
walked off the curbing twice, and I 
landed in the mud. But the rain 

[27] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

washed the mud away, and we arrived 
safely at school. 

I was put in a rack with several other 
wet umbrellas, and was quite proud to 
be the only one with an ivory ring. 
Some of the children took hold of me, 
and said: 

“What a pretty umbrella!” 

I was sorry it had stopped raining by 
the time school was out, for I felt sure it 
would be much worse going home. I 
thought Janet might forget me; but 
when she went by the rack, I was 
grabbed by the ring, and dragged down 
the steps. 

Janet was so happy that I tried not to 
mind the bumps. But, when she began 
to skip, bouncing me up and down on 
the sidewalk at every step, I didn’t like 

[28] 


Janet’s First Umbrella 

it at all. Pavements are the hardest 
things I know about! 

Then something queer happened. 
One of the children came up behind 
Janet, snatched me away, and ran down 
the street. 

Janet screamed but it didn’t do any 
good. We turned a corner, and went 
so fast that I didn’t dare look around. 
I slept under the steps of a piazza all 
night. I knew my color wouldn’t run, 
but every umbrella likes to be dry and 
folded up. I couldn’t fold myself up, 
so I had to stay there and make the best 
of it. 

In the morning, a little girl with very 
black eyes drew me out of my hiding- 
place. I could tell that she liked me by 
the way she smoothed my silk folds, and 

[29] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

slipped her hand through the ring. 
Then she put me back and ran off. 

The next morning she did the same 
thing. The third morning, a lady came 
with her, and the little girl was crying. 

“Nancy,” the lady said, “how could 
you do such a thing?” 

Nancy sobbed, and held me close to 
her, but her mother took me away. 

“This umbrella must go back to its 
owner, Nancy. You couldn’t be happy 
with another little girl’s umbrella.” 

Nancy kept on crying as they walked 
along, and I heard her say: 

“I’m sorry. Mother; do you think 
Janet will be sorry, too?” 

‘^We’ll see,” replied Nancy’s mother. 
K^)^as not long before I heard J anet’s 
laughing voice, and she ran to meet us. 
She seemed surprised to see me, and 

[30] 


Janet’s First Umbrella 

then she looked at Nancy’s flushed face. 
All at once she understood. Running 
to Nancy’s side, she said: 

“Some day, when it rains. I’ll walk 
home with you, and let you carry the 
blue-silk umbrella all the way.’’ 

Nancy smiled through her tears, and 
friendliness shone from both the chil¬ 
dren’s faces. 

Nancy and Janet are fast friends. 
One day, when Nancy was caught in 
the rain, Janet loaned me to her, and I 
had to stay all night, but not under the 
steps. Sometimes I feel as though 
Janet were getting to be such a big girl 
that she is growing away from me, but 
I’m going to keep her dry just as long as 
she will carry me. ^ 



This story originally appeared in “The Christian Science 
Monitor.” 

[31] 


THE LITTLE RED BATHING- 

SUIT 



ISH Daddy would let me 
go swimming by myself! 
Wish I could do what I 


want to!” 

Donald Leigh was talking to himself. 
He had a slender stick in his hand, and 
as he came toward the house in a zigzag 
way, he switched every bush and tree in 
his path. 

“Seem’s if I’d never grow up!” he mut¬ 
tered again, as he switched the last bush. 

Betsy McCloud, who had been in the 
Leigh family since Donald was a baby, 
was watching him from the kitchen 
window. 

“Hm!” thought Betsy, shaking her 


[32] 


The Little Red Bathing-Suit 

head. “Wonder what Donald’s wish¬ 
ing for. But perhaps he’s hungry!” 

Throwing aside the stick, Donald 
went into the cool kitchen. Betsy was 
using the soap-shaker in a pan of water. 
Donald edged along the sink until he 
stood beside her. 

“It’s ’n awful hot day, Betsy,” said 
Donald, with a deep sigh. 

Betsy kept on beating the water. 
Donald looked at the growing pile of 
white foam, and when suds came up 
over the top of the pan, she turned a 
beaming face to her small visitor. 

“This kind of weather makes things 
grow, sonny.” 

“Wish it would make me grow, 
Betsy!” 

“But you grow summer and winter, 
too.” 


[33] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

“Am I a lot bigger’n I was last sum¬ 
mer?” asked Donald eagerly. 

“O my, yes! You were only up to 
my elbow then, but now,”—and Betsy 
laughed as Donald suddenly straight¬ 
ened up,— “Now, you’re half-way to my 
shoulder.” 

“Then don’t you think I’m big 
enough to go swimming by myself?” he 
asked wistfully. 

“So that’s why the bushes got 
switched,” thought Betsy. 

“No, child, not yet,” answered Betsy 
soberly. “Why, you’re only eleven!” 

“That’s what Daddy always says: 
‘Not yet.’ ” 

Donald went to the screen door, and 
looked out. He could see his little red 
bathing-suit hanging on the line, and it 
seemed to say: 


[34] 



The Little Red Bathing-Suit 

“Why don’t you come and get me! 
Why don’t you come and get me 1” 

Betsy, too, saw the little red bathing- 
suit. Then she asked, her eyes twin¬ 
kling,— 

“Would a nice, blackberry turnover 
help any?’’ 

“Oh, Betsy, you’re not fooling? I 
thought you gave me the last one!” 

Betsy grinned at Donald’s eagerness. 
“You go into the pantry, look un¬ 
der that yellow bowl on the second 
shelf, and see what you find.’’ 

“Mmmmmm! this is good,’’ mumbled 
Donald, between bites. “Taste’s bet- 
ter’n the other four, Betsy.” 

“Did you have four?” exclaimed 
Betsy. “So that’s where they went.” 

“Uh-huh, I could eat six!” 

“Boys do beat all! Why, sonny, if 

[35] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

you were as tall as the pile of turnovers 
you’ve eaten one time or another, you’d 
be a man right now.” 

* 

Donald laughed gleefully. “I’m 
glad you slid that turnover under the 
bowl, Betsy,” he said, licking his fingers 
for the last crumb. 

Having finished his turnover, Don¬ 
ald went out of doors again, and down 
the driveway, scuffing his bare toes in 
the dirt. Before he had gone far, he 
heard his name called. Looking up, he 
saw two little figures in overalls, stand¬ 
ing at the entrance. 

“Hello, Benny and Joe!” Donald 
shouted joyfully, running toward them. 
“Where you going?” 

“Just over in Parker’s lot berryin’ and 
swimmin’,” said Benny. “Want to go 
along?” 


[36] 



Looking up, he saw two little figures in overalls 

Page 36 . 



































The Little Red Bathing-Suit 

“Oh, yes,” replied Donald. “^Wait 
till I get a pail and some lunch.” And 
he hurried back to the house. 

“Hey!” called Benny. “Bring your 
bathin’-suit.” 

Betsy was nowhere to be seen. Don¬ 
ald helped himself to some bananas and 
doughnuts. When he came out again, 
pail in hand, the little red bathing-suit 
caught his eye. 

“Why don’t you come and get me! 
Why don’t you come and get me!” it 
seemed to say, louder than before. 

Donald sat down on the top step, 
dangling the pail between his knees. 
He was not happy. It was such a won¬ 
derful day for swimming! And he 
couldn’t keep his eyes away from the red 
bathing-suit. 

“I’m as big as Benny. He’s going 

[37] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

in, why can’t I? No one would know!” 

Donald shut his eyes tight to keep 
back the tears, and then he remembered 
something. 

“Daddy’s going to trust you, Donald, 
not to go swimming alone.” 

How dear his father had looked when 
he said it! 

Opening his eyes, Donald gazed 
squarely at the little red bathing-suit, 
swinging back and forth in the wind. 
They glistened with the tears he had 
kept back, but there was a new light in 
them. 

“Good-bye, little red bathing-suit,” he 
shouted, as he bounded back to Benny 
and Joe, who were waiting for him un¬ 
der the trees. 

It was only a short distance to Park- 

[38] 


The Little Red Bathing-Suit 

er’s lot, and soon all three children were 
busy filling their pails with berries. 
When they stopped to rest, Benny said: 

“Let’s go in swimmin’ before we eat.” 

Donald made no move to get ready. 

“What’s the matter? Didn’t you 
bring a bathin’-suit?” asked Benny, with 
a frown. 

“I can only wade with little Joe, 
Benny.” 

“Wade!” exclaimed Benny. “Say, 
don’t be a sissy! Your father won’t 
know.” 

The water looked so cool and invit¬ 
ing. “I suppose he wouldn’t unless 
something happened. But your moth¬ 
er’s got nine, Benny, and Daddy’s only 
got me. Besides,” Donald was firm 
now, “Daddy trusts me, Benny.” 

[39] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

The two boys looked steadily at each 
other for a moment. Then, with a 
shrug of his shoulders, Benny said: 

“All right, you can wade with Joe, if 
you want to. But just watch me!” 
And Benny stripped off his overalls, and 
made a dash for the water. 

As the boys were hungry, they didn’t 
spend much time in the water. After 
lunch, they frolicked in the grass, and 
before they knew it, all three were fast 
asleep. 

Donald was the first to wake up. He 
heard a long, low rumble, and dark 
clouds were rolling and tumbling over 
each other. 

“Benny!” cried Donald, shaking 
him. “There’s going to be a shower.” 

Benny sat up quickly, and aroused 
little Joe. “We’ll have to go around the 

[40] 


The Little Red Bathing-Suit 

other side of the hill to Parker’s shack,” 
he said. 

The two larger boys took little Joe be¬ 
tween them, and started on a run. 
Once Benny stubbed his toe, and they 
all went down together; but they soon 
found the shack, and a dry place to stay 
until the shower was over. 

Donald’s father and mother drove 
into the yard just as it began to rain. 
Betsy ran out to meet them. 

“I don’t know where Donald is,” she 
exclaimed, with tears in her voice. 

“Did he ask to go anywhere?” in¬ 
quired Mrs. Clark, hastening towards 
her. 

“No,” answered Betsy, “but he did 
wish he could go swimming.” 

“Swimming!” cried Donald’s mother. 
“Oh, Betsy!” 

[41I 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

Mr. Clark got out of the car. As he 
came up the walk, he saw something 
that made his heart glad. 

“Don’t worry!” he said, looking first 
at Donald’s mother, and then at Betsy. 
“Wherever Donald is, he’s minding 
his Daddy,” and he pointed to the little 
red bathing-suit, which the wind was 
tossing about. 

As soon as the shower was over, Don¬ 
ald hurried home. He ate a hearty sup¬ 
per, but he didn’t talk much. When 
Betsy brought his dessert, she said: 

“You gave me a scare, sonny, when I 
found you were not here. And a 
shower coming up, too!” 

Donald put sugar on his pudding, 
until it looked snow-capped. 

“Did you think I’d gone swimming?” 

[42] 


The Little Red Bathing-Suit 

he asked, with a sidelong glance at 
Betsy, as she set the sugar-bowl out of 
reach. 

“I wasn’t quite sure, but your Daddy 
was. You should have seen how 
pleased he looked when he saw your 
bathing-suit on the line. And say, 
sonny. I’m going to make some more 
turnovers to-morrow,” she added, pat¬ 
ting his shoulder. 

“Daddy!” called Donald later, from 
the top of the stairs. “I’m all ready for 
bed.” 

Donald and his father both loved 
their “good-night” together. Reach¬ 
ing for his father’s hand, Donald pulled 
him down beside him, on the bed. 

“Daddy,” he said, “the nicest thing in 
the world is for fathers to trust their 
little boys.” 


[43] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

“And the next best thing in the 
world/’ and Donald’s father drew him 
close, “is for fathers to have little boys 
they can trust.” 

Donald’s arms went around his fa¬ 
ther’s neck. 

“Did that little red bathing-suit talk 
to you very loud, son?” 

“Awful loud. Daddy,” and Donald 
hid his face. 

Neither spoke for a few moments, 
until Donald looked up, and asked: 

“How did you know. Daddy?” 

“Why,” said his father, laughing, “I 
was once a little boy myself. And to¬ 
morrow,” he continued slowly, “I’m 
coming home early, and take you to the 
Lake for your first diving-lesson.” 

“And let’s take Benny!” cried Don¬ 
ald with a hug. 


[44] 


The Little Red Bathing-Suit 

“All right, we’ll take Benny!” agreed 
his father. 

Blissfully happy, Donald lay down, 
and his father snapped out the light. 

“Good-night, son!” 

“Good-night!” responded Donald 
sleepily, nestling his small round head 
into the pillow. “See you—in—the— 
morning, Daddy!” 

And what do you suppose Donald 
dreamed? That he was diving in the 
Lake after those turnovers which Betsy 
said she was going to make. 


[45] 


DAN’S PLAYMATE 


D an was a beautiful Irish setter, 
his long, thick coat the color 
of a ripe chestnut. He had 
lived with the Forbes family since he 
was six months old, and had grown to 
be a big, well-trained dog. 

There were many things that puzzled 
Dan as he grew older. People ordered 
him about from morning until night, 
and for some reason they never told him 
why. But of one thing Dan was cer¬ 
tain, he dearly loved his master. 

Every night about six o’clock, he sat 
on the top step of the veranda waiting 
for him. When the car swung into the 
driveway, Dan gave three short barks 

[46] 


Dans Playmate 

of welcome. And Mr. Forbes would 
smile, and say to the chauffeur, “There’s 
Dan!” 

It had never occurred to Dan that his 
master might bring home another dog. 
One night, much to his surprise, his 
master got out of the car with a small 
wriggling puppy in his arms. 

Instead of giving his usual joyous 
greeting, Dan started to walk away. 

“Come here, Dan!” commanded Mr. 
Forbes. “Here’s a playmate for you.” 

A playmate! Dan had never felt the 
need of any one to play with, and his tail 
stopped wagging when his master 
dropped the puppy at his feet. In his 
hurry to get acquainted, the puppy be¬ 
gan to leap all around the big dog, and 
jump at his nose. Dan thought he 
acted very foolish, and feeling much an- 

[47] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

noyed, he gazed up at his master, a 
troubled look in his dark eyes. Mr. 
Forbes patted his head, then caught the 
prancing puppy and told the chauffeur 
to take him out to the garage. 

Sitting down, he called Dan to him. 
“This puppy has come to stay, Dan,” he 
said. “Do you suppose you can teach 
him to keep out of mischief?” 

Dan lifted his paw, and put it into his 
master’s outstretched hand. This was 
Dan’s way of saying he would do the 
best he could. 

Mr. Forbes looked earnestly into 
the dog’s honest, loving eyes. 

“You love me, don’t you, Dan?” he 
asked. Dan’s tail rapped the floor, and 
he gave a short, quick bark. 

“All right,” his master continued; “if 
you love me, you’ll be nice to my new 

• [48] 


Dans Playmate 

dog. His name is Buster. Don’t you 
remember, when you were a puppy, 
how you went nosing around into every¬ 
thing? You were a perfect nuisance 
for a while. But now, Dan,” taking the 
dog’s beautiful head between his two 
hands, “no one can take your place.” 

For a moment, the new puppy was 
forgotten, and Dan thought he never 
was so happy in his life. He longed to 
tell his master, but he didn’t know how, 
except by being faithful and obedient. 

Buster was kept out in the garage for 
a few days. He barked most of the 
time, for he didn’t like staying alone, 
and he wanted to find out about his new 
home. 

One rainy morning, he was allowed 
to come to the house and stay on the 

[49] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

veranda with Dan. After Mr. Forbes 
had driven away, Dan went over to his 
corner and lay down, his nose on his 
paws. He was curious to see what the 
puppy would do. 

For a while, Buster ran up and down 
the walk, and into the wet grass. When 
he saw that Dan didn’t intend to play 
with him, he came up on the piazza and 
looked in the screen door. Then he sat 
down and waited. Every time he saw 
any one moving about inside, he stood 
up and whined. He wondered why 
there was always a door or a chain to 
keep him from seeing things! 

“You can’t go in,” said Dan, from his 
corner. 

Buster looked around at Dan, and 
wagged his tail in a friendly way. 

“Why can’t I?” he barked. 

[50] 


Dans Playmate 

“I don’t know why,” replied Dan, 
“but I know that if you get in, they’ll put 
you out.” 

Buster sat down. He meant to get 
in if he could. Just then, some one 
stepped into the hall, and his little tail 
thumped the floor hopefully. It was 
Mrs. Forbes, coming out to see 
her flower-boxes. Buster watched his 
chance, and tried to slide in under the 
door, but Mrs. Forbes shoved him away 
with her foot. 

“You can’t go in, Buster,” she said 
firmly. 

“That’s what Dan told me,” he 
whined softly. “I wonder why!” 

Then one of the maids came through 
the hall to shake her duster out the door. 
Buster tried again to get in, but this time 
he got a harder shove. He yelped, and 

[51] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

ran to the big dog for comfort. Dan 
lifted his head, and growled: 

“What do you want to go in the house 
for? It’s much cooler out here.” 

“Because they won’t let me,” said 
Buster stubbornly. 

Buster heard some one else coming, 
and, pricking up his ears, he ran back to 
the screen door. 

This time it was Mary, the cook. 
Both her hands were full, and when she 
pushed the door open, Buster squeezed 
under it. It scraped his back, but he 
didn’t care, for he was inside at last. 

The screen door slammed. “Oh!” 
exclaimed Mary, “that nosey little 
puppy got in.” 

Buster ran all around downstairs, 
sniffing at everything and making little 
wet tracks. Then he ran upstairs right 

[52] 


Dans Playmate 

into Kate, who was using the dry mop. 

“I’ll fix you!” cried Kate, as she tried 
to chase him down again. But Buster 
shied and skidded on the polished floor, 
until he landed against the wall under 
the table. 

“We don’t allow dogs in the house, 
Buster. Just look at those feet!’’ 

With one eye on Kate, Buster glanced 
down at his feet. They were wet and 
dirty, but they felt all right. Perhaps 
Kate would tell him why dogs couldn’t 
come in the house 1 But no, Kate tried 
to poke him out from under the table 
with the mop. 

As she was between him and the front 
stairs, Buster ran down the hall, and 
through what he supposed was a door¬ 
way. Alas for Buster! He went 
down the back stairs in a twinkling, 

[53] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

giving himself a bump on every stair. 

“Wow! Wow!” he snapped out, as 
he landed at the foot with a bang. He 
was beginning to think it was a pretty 
hard world! 

Mary opened the kitchen door, and 
Buster rolled over and over the floor. 

“Well, I declare!” she exclaimed, 
picking the puppy up and looking him 
over. “You came down in a hurry, 
didn’t you?” 

Buster licked Mary’s hand, and she 
smiled down at him. “You’ll be a wiser 
dog when you grow up,” she told him. 

Taking the puppy out the back way, 
Mary went to the garage and fastened 
him to a chain. Buster watched her out 
of sight, and then sat down. 

“Dan was right; they put me out, just 
as he said they would. I must ask him 

[54] 


Dan’s Playmate 

if he ever fell down one of those bumpy 
places.” 

As he didn’t expect to see Dan soon, 
he lay down and tried to sleep. But, 
for some reason, he didn’t feel sleepy. 
Why couldn’t Dan come out and keep 
him company. Buster thought he 
would howl. 

“O dear!” sighed Dan, as he listened. 
“I suppose I must go and see what that 
puppy wants.” 

Very sedately, Dan made his way to 
the garage. Buster jumped to the end 
of his chain, and Dan wisely sat down 
just out of his reach. 

“You didn’t have a good time in the 
house, did you?” he asked. 

“No,” barked Buster, pulling at his 
chain. “I made funny little tracks on 
the floor, and Kate chased me with the 

[55] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

mop. Did you ever bump down a long 
flight of stairs, Dan?” 

Dan yawned. “IVe forgotten my 
puppy days, Buster,” he said, with a se¬ 
rious look at his small companion. 
“But I Ve learned that folks never tell 
dogs why they can’t do things. Some¬ 
time, you may be invited into the house, 
but not when it rains. And you’ll get 
more cookies and candy, if you’re a good 
dog, and keep out of their way. Then 
you won’t have to be put on a chain. 
I’m sure of that.” 

After this long speech, Dan went 
away. The puppy hung his head, but 
he didn’t tease Dan to stay with him. 
From his corner of the veranda, Dan 
heard the puppy bark once in a while 
as though he wanted company, but he 
resolutely closed his eyes. He loved to 

[56] 


Dans Playmate 

dream about his master, who was always 
kind to him. 

“Where’s the puppy, Dan?” asked 
Mr. Forbes, when he came home. 

Dan cocked his head on one side, and 
looked toward the garage. 

“Oh, chained up, is he? Guess he 
got in everybody’s way the first day, 
didn’t he, Dan?” 

Dan barked and ran down the steps, 
his master following. They found the 
puppy curled up on an old coat of the 
chauffeur’s, fast asleep. Dan walked 
around him sniffing, and Buster opened 
one eye, then with a deep sigh, closed it 
again. 

“He’s trying to forget his troubles, 
Dan. We’ll tell Mary to give him a 
good supper.” 


[57] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

Dan felt his heart warming to the new 
puppy; he seemed so little and lone¬ 
some. 

Rushing from the garage, he was 
soon out of sight. In a few moments, 
he came back with a bone he had been 
saving, and laid it down near the old 
coat. 

A gentle hand rested fondly on the 
big dog’s head, as Mr. Forbes stooped 
down and patted Buster. 

“He’s going to make a fine dog, Dan, 
when he learns to do as he is told.” 

For answer, Dan’s rough tongue 
flicked his master’s cheek; but Mr. 
Forbes knew that, in Dan, the new 
puppy had found a friend. 


This story originally appeared in “The Christian Science 
Monitor.” 


[58] 



He came back with a bone he had been saving.— i^/(yc 58, 


















































































ff' 



THE INVITED GUEST 


E ver since Barbara Shaw could 
balance herself on her sturdy 
little legs, she had run, and 
danced, and skipped through the house, 
and about the beautiful grounds of her 
home. She danced into the kitchen and 
visited with Kate, the cook. She ran 
upstairs, and visited with Julia, the 
maid. And she ran, and skipped out of 
doors, talking with John, the gardener, 
and Mark, the chauffeur. 

And so, one morning in May, during 
Barbara’s fourth year in school, she 
came skipping into her mother’s sitting- 
room. She was flushed and happy, as 
it was the first day of the spring va¬ 


cation. 


[59] 


[The Happy-Tbought Story Book 

“Oh, Mother, may I have a party?” 
asked Barbara, pulling off her tarn. 
“And may I invite twenty children this 
time? I had only ten last year. We 
have oceans of room!” she added. 

Mrs. Shaw smiled at her little daugh¬ 
ter, as she straightened the big blue bow 
on her hair, which her tarn had flattened. 

Barbara did not know that it meant a 
great deal of work to get ready for 
twenty children. The cook had gone 
on a visit to her sister, and Mrs. Shaw 
did not want to send for her. As her 
mother did not reply at once, Barbara, 
who had begun to dance when she 
thought of the fun twenty children 
could have, stopped suddenly and 
looked at her. 

“You’re not going to say ‘No,’ are 
you, Mother?” 


[6o] 


The Invited Guest 

“I’m going to let you choose,” Mrs. 
Shaw answered. “You may have a 
party, or you may invite one of your 
schoolmates to spend the day with you, 
just as you please.” 

Barbara’s bright face clouded, and 
she walked slowly over to the window. 
To Barbara, a party at that moment, 
seemed more desirable than anything 
else in the world. 

“It would be fun to have company all 
by myself!” thought Barbara. Turn¬ 
ing around, she met her mother’s eyes, 
and smiled. 

“May I do the inviting?” she in¬ 
quired. 

“Yes, Barbara, and you may entertain 
just as Mother does, when she has com¬ 
pany.” 

“I think I’d love that. Mother,” and 

[6i] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

coming across the room, Barbara 
slipped into her mother’s lap. 

“Then, dear, we’ll call it settled, and 
you may ask your guest for Thursday.” 

Barbara had a host of small friends. 
But it did not take her long to make her 
choice. That night when Mrs. Shaw 
kissed her little daughter “good-night,” 
Barbara said: 

“I’m going to invite Ellen Gray.” 

“Ellen Gray!” repeated her mother. 
“Who is Ellen Gray, Barbara?” 

“She sits in front of me at school, and 
her father is the janitor. Ellen has a lot 
of brothers and sisters. Mother, but 
there are so many things she doesn’t 
have. I would like Ellen to be my 
guest.” 

“And I’ll help you and little Ellen to 

[62] 


The Invited Guest 

have a very happy day,” said Mrs. Shaw, 
widi approval. 

The next two days passed rather 
slowly. But on Thursday morning, the 
sun danced through the East window 
across Barbara’s bed, as though it were 
saying: 

“Wake up! Wake up! Ellen’s 
coming.” 

Before long, Barbara’s eyes flew open, 
and she knew the wonderful day had 
come. For the first time, she was going 
to have company like grown people. 

At ten o’clock, Ellen came. Barbara 
was on the veranda waiting for her. 
But the big house was so unlike the small 
cottage where she lived, that she felt lost 
as Barbara led her upstairs to meet her 
mother. Mrs. Shaw drew little Ellen 

[63] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

to her, bidding her welcome. Ellen was 
shy and winsome, and her eyes shone 
like stars as she looked first at Barbara, 
and then at Barbara’s mother, but she did 
not speak. 

Mrs. Shaw told the children they 
might pick the flowers for their table, 
and as it was so warm, they were to eat 
lunch in the summer-house. Hand in 
hand, they went to find John, the gar¬ 
dener, who was glad to help them. 

Then they visited Barbara’s pets. 
There were some six-weeks-old pup¬ 
pies, rabbits, white mice, and downy lit¬ 
tle chickens. Ellen wished she might 
play with them all day, but just as they 
put the last puppy back with its mother, 
a bell rang. 

“That’s to tell us lunch is ready,” said 
Barbara. “Let’s go and wash our 

C64] 


The Invited Guest 

hands, and we’ll each choose a doll to eat 
with us. Mother said she would have 
the table set for four.” 

Ellen thought she had never seen such 
a pretty table. There were little tea- 
biscuits; thin slices of pink ham; a mold 
of jelly; small fancy cakes; and plenty 
of rich milk. What a merry time they 
had! 

When they had finished, Barbara 
asked Ellen if she liked stories. 

“Oh, yes,” answered Ellen, who had 
gotten over her shyness. “Mother 
doesn’t have much time to read, there is 
so much mending to do at our house.” 

So Barbara ran up to the nursery for 
a book, and they each selected a story, 
which Mrs. Shaw read to them. After 
the stories, there was still a good share 
of the afternoon left. 

[65] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

Barbara skipped around a few min¬ 
utes, and then asked coaxingly: 

“May we do what we like, Mother?” 

“Yes, if it is pleasing to Ellen. She 
is your guest, you know.” 

“Would you like to go for a ride in 
the automobile?” asked Barbara. 

Ellen’s eyes grew round and big, as 
she tightly clasped the doll she was hold¬ 
ing. 

“I’ve never been in a big, big car!” 
she answered. “And may we take the 
dolls?” 

“Yes, indeed,” agreed Barbara read¬ 
ily. “And they may sit between us.” 

They were soon skimming over the 
ground into the open country. As they 
turned a curve in the road, they came to 
a big field of daisies. Mark opened the 

[ 66 ] 


The Invited Guest 

car door, and the children got out and 
picked all they could carry. The dolls 
were obliged to sit in the bottom of the 
car the rest of the way. 

It was a pretty picture, when two 
happy little girls came up on the ve¬ 
randa with their arms full of flowers. 
Barbara’s father arose to meet them. 

“This is Ellen Gray, Daddy,” ex¬ 
plained Barbara. “She has been my 
guest all day.” 

“And have you had a good time, lit¬ 
tle Ellen?” Mr. Shaw inquired kindly. 
But Ellen was shy again. Her brown 
eyes sparkled, her cheeks were rosy, and 
her smile showed two dimples that told 
their own story. As she turned away to 
look after her doll, Barbara whispered to 
her father: 


[67] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

“Ellen’s one of my best friends, 
Daddy, and Mother said I could give 
her something to take home.” 

“All right,” said Mr. Shaw. “And 
here is a box of bonbons for each of 
you.” 

Barbara and Ellen had dinner, and 
when it was time for the sandman, Mr. 
Shaw ordered the car to take Ellen 
home. As she was putting on her hat, 
Barbara handed her a book of fairy 
tales. 

“To remember our nice day to¬ 
gether!” said Barbara smiling. 

Ellen thanked her little friend, kissed 
her good-by, and was soon whirled 
away to her own home. 

Later, as Barbara snuggled under her 
warm quilt, she said in a sleepy voice: 

“Don’t you just love Ellen, Mother? 

[ 68 ] 



Two HAPPY LITTLE GIRLS CAME UP ON THE VERANDA, 

Page 67. 





















I 




The Invited Guest 

And didn’t we have a nice day to¬ 
gether?” 

In the other home, after Ellen had 
slipped into bed, with the Fairy book 
under her pillow, she exclaimed: 

“I had such a good time. Mother! If 
we had a big house like Barbara’s, I’d 
like to make some little girl happy, too.” 

Mrs. Gray lovingly tucked the covers 
under her chin. 

“It wasn’t the big house that made you 
happy, Ellen, it was Barbara’s loving 
thoughts.” 


< 


[69] 


WINNING THE PRIZE 


B illy mason didn’t like to do 

home-work. It always seemed 
to come at the wrong time. 
Just as he got ready to play with his dog, 
Gyp, or feed his rabbits, or ride his 
“bike,” Mother would say, “Have you 
done your home-work, Billy?” And 
always, Billy would have to reply: 
“Not yet.” 

But to-day it was raining, and Billy 
couldn’t go out. He had his books on a 
small table in front of him, a nicely 
sharpened pencil, and a neat pile of 
fresh paper, but somehow he couldn’t 
think about school. 

He watched the rain splash against 

[70] 


Winning the Prize 

the window-pane, making crooked lit¬ 
tle rivers that chased each other down 
the glass and then disappeared. Gyp 
was lying beside Billy’s chair, and every 
little while he looked up to see if it was 
time for a romp. But as Billy took no 
notice of him, he would drop his head on 
his paws, and doze again. 

Two things had gone wrong with 
Billy that morning. He very much 
wanted a toy fire-engine, but his Daddy 
had said: 

“No more new toys, Billy, until you 
have better marks in your school work.” 

That made the fire-engine seem a long 
way off, for Billy knew his report-card 
had been very poor the last term. 

It was also the first day of a new term 
at school. After the children had taken 
their seats, the teacher. Miss Moore, had 

[71] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

called them to “attention” saying she had 
something very nice to tell them. Billy 
remembered how quiet it had been, so 
quiet that they could hear the ticking of 
the big clock on the wall at the back of 
the room. Miss Moore had taken time 
to look at each row of children to see that 
they were all in order and listening. 

Then she told them about an old gen¬ 
tleman who had been to school in that 
very room, when he was a small boy, and 
now he was offering a prize to the child 
who had the highest marks at the end of 
the term. That prize was to be a five- 
dollar gold-piece! 

The children wriggled around in their 
chairs, in an excited way, and as they 
could not talk to each other. Miss 
Moore had said they could show their 

[72] 


Winning the Prize 

pleasure by clapping their hands as loud 
as they wanted to. 

Every child in the room had clapped 
but Billy! No one noticed this but the 
teacher, and when school was out, Billy 
had gone home wishing he never had to 
go to school again. 

Billy wasn’t exactly a lazy little fel¬ 
low, but he loved to play more than any¬ 
thing else, and he didn’t see how a good 
report-card could make him any hap¬ 
pier. 

When Billy went down to dinner, he 
hoped his father wouldn’t ask him any¬ 
thing about school. He slipped quietly 
into his chair at the table, and for a few 
minutes, no one paid any attention to 
him. Then suddenly, Mr. Mason in¬ 
quired: 


C73] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

“Well, Billy, how goes the first day at 
school?” 

“Oh, all right,” said Billy, unfolding 
his napkin. 

Mr. Mason gazed at his small son, 
and rather guessed that something un¬ 
usual had happened. 

“You’re going to try to do better this 
last term, aren’t you, Billy?” 

Billy knew his father would hear 
about the prize, so he said in a “don’t- 
care” way: 

“An old gentleman has offered a 
prize to be given to the one who has the 
highest marks.” 

“A prize!” exclaimed his father. 
“What is it?” 

“A five-dollar gold-piece,” answered 
Billy. 

“That would buy the fire-engine you 

' [74] 


Winning the Prize 

were asking me for,” said Mr. Mason. 

Billy didn’t look up from his plate, 
and his father knew that he had no 
thought of working for the prize. 

The next morning was warm and 
sunny, and everything was as green as 
a spring rain could make it. Billy 
started off for school with Gyp at his 
heels. As he turned the corner, he met 
one of his schoolmates, Jimmy Blake. 

Jimmy lived in another part of the 
town from Billy. His mother had to 
work for their living, and Jimmy knew 
he would have to leave school as soon as 
he was big enough to earn anything. 
And he was going to work hard for the 
prize! 

“Hello, Billy!” exclaimed Jimmy, a 
joyous ring in his voice. “Say, wasn’t 
that splendid about the prize?” 

[75] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

“You’re welcome to it,” said Billy. 
“I couldn’t get it, anyway.” 

“But you’re going to try, aren’t you, 
Billy?” 

“No,” replied Billy, with a shrug of 
his shoulders. 

Jimmy looked at Billy in his tweed 
suit, his silk tie, and nicely polished 
shoes. His own clothes were clean, but 
they had been mended, and were the best 
his mother could give him. But J immy 
knew that he was happier than Billy! 
He didn’t like to be poor, but he would 
much rather be poor, than not like to 
study. That was the trouble with Billy! 
He didn’t know that work was just as 
much fun as play, if one went at it right. 

But Jimmy couldn’t tell Billy all this, 
and so they walked along together, and 

[76] 


Winning the Prize 

reached the school building just as the 
bell rang. 

Billy’s number-work was very poor 
that day, and Miss Moore told him to re¬ 
main after school, and she would help 
him. 

After the others had gone, she called 
Billy to her desk, and explained the 
examples so that he understood them. 
Then she said: 

“You’re going to try for the prize, 
aren’t you, Billy?” 

Billy wondered why he didn’t like to 
meet his teacher’s eye. Miss Moore’s 
fingers slipped under Billy’s round chin, 
and she tilted his face up so she could 
look at him. 

“I expect every pupil in my room to 
try for that prize, Billy,” she said firmly. 

• [77] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

“Of course, only one child can win it, 
but not to try at all is to fall down. You 
don’t want to be a ‘quitter,’ do you, 
Billy?” 

As Billy did not answer. Miss Moore 
pulled up a chair, and told him to sit 
down. “I’m going to tell you a story,” 
she said. “Once upon a time, there was 
a Scotchman, who was a great hunter. 
He could clear the highest hedges, and 
jump the widest ditches of any one in all 
the country around. When some one 
asked him the secret of his success, he 
replied, ‘I put my heart over first, and 
the horse and I follow after.’ 

“You see, Billy,” she continued, “this 
Scotchman loved to hunt. He wanted 
to be the best hunter there was, and he 
had courage to try big things. Now, if 
you could put your heart over first as 

[78] 


Winning the Prize 

he did, your marks would go up like the 
mercury in a thermometer. Wouldn’t 
you like to call your school work a 
‘hunting game,’ Billy?” 

A game! Billy’s round eyes were 
wide open now. 

“And could I be the hunter!” ex¬ 
claimed Billy, excitedly. “What would 
make big, high hedges for me to go over. 
Miss Moore?” 

“Well,” replied his teacher thought¬ 
fully, “to stop thinking, ‘I don’t like 
number-work, and I don’t like spell¬ 
ing’ would be quite a high hedge, 

wouldn’t it?” 

# 

“Yes,” answered Billy soberly. It 
was more like work than play after all! 
“And what would you call the wide 
ditches?” 

“Lazy thoughts, Billy,” said Miss 

[79] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

Moore promptly. “Gazing out of the 
window, and dreaming about your play, 
instead of keeping your mind on your 
work.” 

Billy was still sober, but his mind was 
on the hunrer. Suddenly, he looked up 
very earnestly. “Do you s’pose I can 
do it,—put my heart over first. Miss 
Moore?” 

“To be sure you can!” she said, gaz¬ 
ing down at the eager little questioner. 
“Your father had to study to learn just 
the things he wants you to learn, and 
now he’s a successful business man! I 
guess he could tell you of some high 
hedges he’s had to clear, if you should 
ask him.” 

But Billy didn’t want to ask his father. 
“Let’s have a secret. Miss Moore. I’ll 
work- for the prize, and even if I don’t 

[8o] 


Winning the Prize 

get it, I’ll s’prise Daddy with a better 
report-card.” 

“Good for you, Billy!’ cried his 
teacher, “and I’ll help you all I can.” 

Again at the dinner table, Mr. Mason 
felt that something unsual had hap¬ 
pened to Billy, but this time he didn’t 
question him. “Perhaps he is going to 
try for the prize,” thought Mr. Mason. 
And when Billy studied until bed time, 
instead of racing with Gyp, he was al¬ 
most sure of it. 

For a time, Billy found it very hard to 
keep his thoughts on his lessons. He 
caught himself wondering if the boys 
were playing ball, if his rabbits were 
hungry, or if Gyp was looking for him; 
but after the first week or two. Miss 
Moore noticed a change in him. 

One Friday night, Billy returned to 

[8i] 


J'he Happy-Thought Story Book 

the school-room for a book he had for¬ 
gotten. Miss Moore was there, too, 
correcting some papers. She gave Billy 
a cordial smile, and told him how 
pleased she was with his work. 

“Is Jimmy Blake ahead of me?” asked 
Billy. 

“Yes,” she said, “Jimmy’s ahead so 
far!” 

Billy got his book, and walked slowly 
out of the school-room. He sat down 
on the top step outside, and winked hard 
to keep back the tears. For Billy knew 
Jimmy! He was so enthusiastic about 
everything that it was almost impossible 
to pass him, either in work or play. For 
a few minutes, he did some hard think¬ 
ing. 

Just then. Miss Moore came out, and 
seeing Billy, she stopped and spoke to 

[82] 



Just then, Miss Moore came out.—P aryc 82 . 






































































































































































































Winning the Prize 

him. “Wanting to quit because Jimmy 
is ahead of you, is a very high hedge, 
Billy.” 

At the end of the term, Jimmy Blake 
had the highest marks, and the old gen¬ 
tleman came to the school and presented 
him with the five-dollar gold-piece. 
Jimmy was a very happy little boy, for 
it was the first money he had ever earned, 
and he was going to give it to his hard¬ 
working mother. Billy tried to be as 
pleased over Jimmy’s success as the 
other children. He had done good 
work even if he hadn’t won the prize, 
and Daddy would surely be pleased with 
his report-card. 

As he passed Miss Moore’s desk on his 
way out, she handed him an envelope 
and told him to give it to his father. 

When Billy reached home, his father 

[83] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

was sitting on the veranda. He handed 
him the envelope, and as he sat down, 
Gyp jumped into his arms, and flicked 
his cheek with his rough tongue. Billy 
held the dog close, and waited. 

As Mr. Mason read the note which 
was with Billy’s report-card, he became 
puzzled, as well as,pleased. “Jimmy 
Blake had the highest marks, and won 
the prize,” Miss Moore had written, 
“but Billy has made the most progress 
of any one in the class. I hope he will 
receive his well-deserved reward.” 

“Reward!” thought Mr. Mason. 
“What does she mean?” Billy’s marks 
were remarkably good. “Oh yes, now 
I remember! Billy wanted a fire- 
engine.” 

Billy glanced over at his fathfer, who 
was smiling broadly. “I guess we’ll 

[84] 


Winning the Prize 

have to go down-town, Billy boy! This 
is the best report-card you have ever 
had, and maybe,” he added, with a 
twinkle in his eye, “we can find that 
fire-engine.” 

“Oh, Daddy!” he cried, and running 
down the steps, Billy found he could 
best express his joy in a series of somer¬ 
saults. 

They went at once to a toy store, and 
Billy found just what he wanted. As 
they rode home, Mr. Mason said: 

“Can you tell Daddy your secret, 
now?” 

“How did you know I had a secret?” 
asked Billy in surprise, his small hand 
nestling in his father’s big one. 

“Oh, I just knew!” said his father. 

So Billy told the story of the hunter, 
and how Miss Moore had helped him 

[85] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

play the game. Looking down at the 
big package in the bottom of the car, 
Billy suddenly thought of something. 

“I think Jimmy’s a good sportsman, 
too, Daddy. He has to leave school be¬ 
fore long to help his mother. Don’t 
you s’pose. Daddy, you could do some¬ 
thing to help keep Jimmy in school?” 

“Why, yes, I think I can. That’s a 
fine idea, Billy!” 

When Billy Mason got out of the car 
with his fire-engine under his arm, he 
was sure that “putting his heart over 
first,” was the best game he had ever 
played. 


[ 86 ] 


THE NEW SCHOOL-BOX 


F reddie KiMBALLwentup 

the piazza steps two at a time, 
and, bursting into the kitchen, 
almost ran into Aunt Hannah who was 
on her way to the oven with a pan of bis¬ 
cuits she had just made for lunch. 

“Where’s Mother, Aunt Hannah?” 
he asked excitedly. 

Aunt Hannah was never in a hurry, 
and, without answering, she put the bis¬ 
cuits in the oven and closed the door. 
Then she met Freddie’s frown of im¬ 
patience with a smile. 

“I think she is upstairs, sonny.” 
Freddie rushed through the hall, 

[87] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

bounded over the stairs, and knocked at 
his mother’s door. 

“I heard you come into the kitchen 
like a whirlwind. \Vhat is going on?” 
she inquired. 

“Oh Mother, down at Anderson’s 
store, they are selling twenty-five cent 
school-boxes the rest of this week, for 
ten cents. May I get one?” 

School would open in two weeks, and 
Mrs. Kimball knew how dear to a child’s 
heart is the new school-box at the begin¬ 
ning of the term. 

“Have you saved the ten cents I gave 
you the other day?” 

“No, Mother,” replied Freddie. “I 
spent it for ice-cream cones. But it is 
such a bargain. Mother, couldn’t you 
give me another dime?” 

“But it is five days before Saturday, 

[ 88 ] 


The New School-Box 

and you have plenty of time to earn a 
dime.” 

“They might all be sold before I could 
earn it,” argued Freddie; “the children 
will buy them awfully fast.” 

Mrs. Kimball looked thoughtfully at 
her small son. Freddie had always had 
a great deal done for him, and she was 
trying to teach him that the things we 
want are worth working for. 

“I think, my little man,” she said 
kindly, “that if you are willing to do 
your part, an opportunity will come for 
you to earn your school-box.” 

The next morning, while Freddie was 
eating his breakfast, Mrs. Kimball said: 

“I have a bundle of rags for Mrs. 
Ross, Freddie, and if you will take them 
to her, ril give you ten pennies, one for 
each block you have to go.” 

[89] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

Mrs. Ross was a lady who braided 
rags into rugs. Freddie’s mother had 
known her a long time, and every little 
while she sent her a bundle of rags to 
use. 

It was a warm morning, and Freddie 
would much rather have spent the time 
with the other boys under the trees. 
But he wanted the school-box, and he 
might not have another chance to earn 
the money. He wondered why it was 
so much more fun to spend money than 
to earn it! 

“All right. Mother,” he said half¬ 
heartedly. “I’ll go as soon as I finish 
my practising.” 

When the time was up, Mrs. Kimball 
brought Freddie the package, and laid 
ten pennies on the table beside his cap. 

[90] 


The New School-Box 

“Are you going to pay me before I 
go, Mother?” 

“Yes, I am this time, so you can buy 
the box before you come home if you 
wish to.” 

Freddie’s arms went around his 
mother’s neck in a bearlike hug. Then 
scooping up the pennies, he dropped 
them one by one into his trousers’ 
pocket, and picking up the bundle went 
out with a merry whistle. 

Mrs. Ross was fond of children, and 
she smiled as she saw Freddie coming 
up the walk. 

A spicy fragrance greeted Freddie’s 
nose as he stepped into the tiny hall, and 
Mrs. Ross heard him sniff as he came 
to her side and gave her the package 
from his mother. 


[91] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

“Smells pretty good, doesn’t it, son? 
You sit right down over there by the 
window and rest a bit before you start 
back.” And then she rang the bell by 
her side, which was soon answered by 
Mary, the housekeeper. 

“As soon as that gingerbread is out 
of the oven, Mary, you bring in a gen¬ 
erous piece for this starving boy. Boys 
are always starving for warm, spicy 
gingerbread. I know!” she added, 
with a chirpy little laugh. 

When Mary brought in the ginger¬ 
bread, there was also a glass of fresh but¬ 
termilk on the tray, and Freddie thought 
he had never eaten anything that tasted 
quite so good. 

Bidding Mrs. Ross “good-by,” Fred¬ 
die started on his long walk back. Most 
of the way was along the main street, but 

[92] 


The New School-Box 

Anderson’s store was beyond the street 
where he turned to go to his own home. 
As he came within two blocks of the 
street, he saw a woman carrying a heavy 
basket, which she was obliged to set 
down every few minutes. 

When Freddie came up to her, he 
looked so sorry that she spoke to him. 

“Hello, little man!” 

“Good morning,” answered Freddie 
politely. “Do you have to carry that 
basket very far?” 

“Yes, to the end of the car line.” 

“Why don’t you ride?” he asked. 

“Well, you see,” the woman an¬ 
swered, “my youngest little girl had to 
have a pair of shoes this week, and it 
took all I had, except what I have saved 
for food.” 

“That’s too bad! If I were a man, 

[93] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

Fd carry the basket for you,” said Fred¬ 
die, thrusting his hands into his trousers’ 
pockets. 

The contact of the pennies brought a 
queer look to Freddie’s face. 

“What’s the matter?” the woman 
asked. 

“Oh, nothing,” answered Freddie, the 
pennies almost burning his fingers. It 
was just ten cents to the end of the car 
line, and looking up the street, he saw 
the car coming. 

Digging his toes into the ground, he 
knew he hadn’t much time to decide. 

“I’ve got ten pennies!” exclaimed 
Freddie quickly. “The car’s coming 
now, and you get right on and ride to the 
end of the line.” 

Freddie stood where the grateful 
woman had left him, watching the re- 

[94] 



“The car’s coming now. Pa(ye 54, 





































The New School-Box 

\ 

ceding car, his eyes slowly filling with 
tears. No school-box for him! He 
had been sorry for the woman, but now 
he was sorry for Freddie Kimball. 

He walked slowly home, and all that 
day he never said a word about the 
school-box. His mother knew some¬ 
thing had happened, but she asked no 
questions. 

Thursday and Friday went by, and 
Freddie was still silent. On Saturday, 
Freddie’s father took him on a short 
business trip in the automobile, and, 
when the morning was about half over, 
there was a knock on Mrs. Kimball’s 
back door. 

“Does Freddie Kimball live here?” a 
woman inquired, as Aunt Hannah 
opened the door. “If he does, I want to 
see his mother.” 


[95] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

Aunt Hannah invited her into the 
kitchen, and went to call Freddie’s 
mother. 

Mrs. Kimball had never seen the 
woman before, and asked what she 
could do for her. 

“I came to bring your son the ten pen¬ 
nies he loaned me' the other day,” the 
woman said. 

“What day was that?” asked Mrs. 
Kimball. 

“Last Tuesday, ma’am. I don’t sup¬ 
pose he’d call it a loan, but I’m sure it 
was his own money that he gave me, and 
I want to pay him back.” 

Then she told Freddie’s mother and 
Aunt Hannah how Freddie had paid her 
fare on the car. “By the way he 
looked,” she said, “I think he knew what 
he was going to do with those ten pen- 

[96] 


The New School-Box 

nies, but he gave them up for me, and 
now here they are!” And with a ra¬ 
diant smile, she laid ten pennies on the 
table. 

“Yes,” said Mrs. Kimball, “he had his 
heart set on something; but he hasn’t 
said a word about what became of the 
money.” 

“Bless his heart!” exclaimed the 
woman. “You thank him for me, and 
tell him that sometime I hope he’ll have 
dollars to give away.” 

Mrs. Kimball took the ten pennies and 
put them under Freddie’s plate. And 
there he found them at lunch-time! 

He gave his mother a startled look, 
and waited for her to explain. 

“The woman with the heavy basket 
brought them, and said to thank you for 
the loan.” 


[97] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

“But, Mother, it wasn’t a loan; I gave 
them to her,” said Freddie. 

“And the woman was very grateful, 
sonny. You made her happy, and now 
she has made you happy. After lunch, 
you may run down to Anderson’s and 
get your school-box, and Fm sure you 
will think it the best one you ever had.” 

“If they should be gone. Mother! It 
is the last day, you know.” 

His mother shook her head wisely. 
“They’ll not be.” 

And sure enough, there were five 
boxes left, and the storekeeper let Fred¬ 
die have his choice. 


This story originally appeared in “The Christian Science 
Monitor.” 


[98] 


A REAL THANKSGIVING 


T he clock on the mantel 
chimed the half-hour after five. 
David Harris, and his sister, 
Marjorie, looked at each other and 
smiled. 

“Time to get ready!” said Marjorie. 
Their books and papers were hastily 
put away in preparation for what they 
called “Entertaining Mother.” During 
the half-hour before dinner, Mrs. Har¬ 
ris always spent it with the children in 
the library, and David and Marjorie 
liked to play that she had come to call on 
them. 

The shades had been drawn, and a 

[99] 

> 

) » 

> > ) 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

bright fire snapped and crackled in the 
open fireplace. 

While waiting for the accustomed 
knock which announced their visitor, 
David and Marjorie sat down on the big 
fur rug in front of the fire, to watch the 
flames twist and curl as they shot up into 
the dark chimney. 

“Marjorie,” said David suddenly, 
“what does Thanksgiving mean? Just 
having a turkey dinner?” 

“What ever made you think of that, 
Davy?” 

“Why, because my teacher. Miss 
Lewis, put a box on the corner of her 
desk to-day. She said she wanted each 
pupil to drop a letter in it, telling her the 
best way to spend Thanksgiving. The 
day before school closes, the letters are 
to be read, and the pupils are to choose 

[lOO] 



A Real Thanksgiving 

which one they think is the best of all.” 

Marjorie looked thoughtful, as David 
finished. “All the Thanksgivings I re¬ 
member,” she finally said, “we’ve just 
had company, and a big dinner. But I 
never heard any one say what it really 
means. Let’s ask Mother.” 

J ust then some one knocked, and both 
children scrambled to their feet, in a 
rush to open the door. 

“Good evening. Mother!” they both 
exclaimed. 

“Good evening, my dears!” returned 
their caller. 

David ran for a stool to put under her 
feet, and Marjorie piled the cushions be¬ 
hind her, as she sat down between them 
on the big davenport. 

“Isn’t this cheerful, children?” said 
Mrs. Harris, as she spread her hands 

[loi] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

towards the bright fire. David leaned 
his head against his mother’s shoulder, 
which meant that he had something im¬ 
portant to ask. 

“I’m listening,” his mother said, peer¬ 
ing down into his face. “You haven’t 
broken any windows with that new ball, 
have you?” 

“Oh, no. Mother,” replied David, sit¬ 
ting up quickly. “We want to know 
what Thanksgiving Day is for,—what 
it really means.” 

Mrs. Harris put her hand affection¬ 
ately on her son’s head, and slipped an 
arm around her little daughter. 

“Well, children,” she explained, “to 
some, it is a day of giving to the poor. 
To others, it is a celebration and merry¬ 
making among friends. But a real 
Thanksgiving is being thankful for all 

[102] 



“I’m listening,” his mother ^ Am .— Pa<je 102 . 



















































































A Real Thanksgiving 

the good things that have come to us 
during the year, and feeling kindly 
towards everybody.” 

There was a thoughtful silence. 
David was thinking about his letter, and 
Mrs. Harris thought of the wonderful 
home-comings when she was a young 
girl. It was Marjorie who broke the 
silence, by inquiring seriously: 

“The last way is the best, isn’t it. 
Mother?” 

“Yes, dear,” answered her mother 
gently, “but not always the easiest.” 

The next morning on their way to 
school, David asked: 

“Do you feel kindly towards every¬ 
body, Marjorie?” 

“No,” said Marjorie honestly. “I 
don’t like my teacher, and I guess she 
doesn’t like me.” 

[103] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

“And I don’t speak to Johnny Grant,” 
confessed David. 

“Johnny Grant, the boy who works 
for the grocer? What did he do?” 

“Well,” said David, “he wanted to 
take my new ball. I wouldn’t let him, 
so he took it away from me and threw it 
into a mud-puddle.” 

“Dad’ll buy you another, if you ask 
him,” declared Marjorie. 

“Yes, but I shouldn’t like Johnny any 
better for having a new ball.” 

Both children walked along each 
busy with their thoughts, until they 
reached the school building. Then 
David said: 

“We couldn’t either of us have a real 
Thanksgiving, could we, Marjorie?” 

“A real one?” inquired Marjorie 
frowning. 

[104] 


A Real Thanksgiving 

“I mean ‘real,’ like the one Mother 
told us about,—‘feeling kindly.’ ” 

“No, I s’pose not,” admitted Marjorie. 
“But you remember. Mother said it was 
the best way, though not always the 
easiest.” 

All that day, David wondered how he 
was going to write a letter about a real 
Thanksgiving, when his thoughts were 
all wrong. He did not say anything 
more to Marjorie, but that night he lay 
awake a long time thinking about 
Johnny. “I wish now I had let him 
take the ball!” sighed David, just be¬ 
fore he dropped off to sleep. 

It was only a week before Thanksgiv¬ 
ing. The air was crisp and cold, and 
as David started for school, he saw 
Johnny Grant just ahead of him. 
Johnny was whistling merrily as he 

[105] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

swung along. David was surprised to 
find that he wanted to speak to Johnny. 
By and by, Johnny turned around, and 
David waved to him. Johnny looked 
puzzled, then walked on. In a short 
time, he turned around again, and David 
waved once more. Still wondering 
what David could want, Johnny waited 
for him to catch up. 

“Wouldn’t you like to be friends 
again, Johnny?” asked David, pleas¬ 
antly. 

“Why, yes,” answered Johnny, with a 
grin. “ ’Tisn’t much fun quarreling. 
Let’s shake on it!” 

“Now,” thought David happily, as he 
took his seat in school, “I can write my 
letter about a real Thanksgiving.” 

Later, when he told Marjorie that he 

[io6] 


A Real Thanksgiving 

and Johnny had made up, he was not 
surprised when she said; 

“I like my teacher, too! You see,” 
Marjorie explained, “I gave her a big, 
red apple yesterday, and she seemed so 
pleased. She put her arm around me, 
and said she was sorry if she had seemed 
cross, or impatient. But something had 
troubled her!” 

“And to-night, we’ll tell Mother!” 
said David, to which Marjorie agreed. 

The day before Thanksgiving, when 
the box was opened, and the letters read, 
the children all thought David’s letter 
was the best. And this is what he 
wrote: 

“Thanksgiving Day is spent mostly 
in eating and having a good time. But 
we cannot be happy ourselves unless we 

[107] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

have made some one else happy. So I 
think a real Thanksgiving means hav¬ 
ing lots of love for everybody, then we 
can give thanks and have a good time 
all day.” 

But Thanksgiving Day was to be one 
of surprises to a number of people. 

■ Mr. and Mrs. Harris had planned to 
spend the day with the children’s Uncle 
Jim and his family. As it was a fifty- 
mile drive, they started early, and 
reached Uncle Jim’s about ten o’clock. 

“Oh, Mother, look!” shouted 
Uncle Jim’s children, as the car 
drove into the yard, and came to a 
standstill at the side door of an old- 
fashioned country farmhouse. 

“Well, well,” gasped their mother, 
hastily drying her hands, and peering 
over the children’s heads. “That’s 
Uncle John Harris!” 

[io8] 


A Real Thanksgiving 

David and Marjorie, gazing out of 
the car window, saw five young faces 
pressed hard against the window-pane. 
They got out just as Uncle Jim came 
round the corner of the house. 

“This is a surprise!” he exclaimed, 
shaking hands with them all. “Come 
right in!” he said, ushering them 
through the big square kitchen, into the 
living room. 

Aunt Mary’s first thought was: 
“How in the world am I going to feed 
so many people!” Seeing the look of 
worry on her face, Mrs. Harris said: 

“Don’t worry, Mary, this is the chil¬ 
dren’s treat. We have brought every¬ 
thing with us for a real old-fashioned 
Thanksgiving dinner. The turkey’s all 
stuffed, ready to put into the oven, and 
there are plenty of vegetables, and fruit, 

[109] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

besides lots of goodies for those who 
have a ‘sweet tooth’ ” she said, smiling 
at the eager young folks. 

“Oh! Oh!’’ shouted the children. 
“Candy, and nuts, and figs!” 

“And I thought we were not going to 
have any Thanksgiving this year,” said 
Mary, her voice trembling. “We’ve 
had so much expense, we decided we’d 
wait until Christmas for our turkey.” 

“But you see, you didn’t have to,” re¬ 
plied Mrs. Harris, slipping an arm 
around Mary’s shoulders. 

While the turkey was being roasted, 
the children rushed out to the barn, and 
had a wonderful time. Such appetites 
as they brought to the table with them! 
And how happy everybody seemed! 
But the best time of all, was late in the 
afternoon, when Uncle Jim brought out 

[no] 


A Real Thanksgiving 

a big corn-popper, and David went out 
to the car and surprised them with a bag 
of lollipops. 

On the way home, Marjorie leaned 

t 

over and asked her brother, “Don’t you 
feel good all over, Davy?” 

“Yes,” answered David, “though I’m 
still pretty full. But it was a real 
Thanksgiving for all of us, wasn’t it, 
Marjorie?” 

“For us,” assented Marjorie, “for 
Uncle Jim and Aunt Mary, and for all 
the children.” 

“And for Mother and Dad, too!” 
added David. 

“Yes,” said Mrs. Harris, who had 
overheard them, “for Mother and Dad, 
too! And we’ll never have a Thanks¬ 
giving again, that isn’t real!” 


[Ill] 


THE PANSY BEDS 


D oris,” called Mrs. King 
from the kitchen. “What 
are you doing?” 

“I’m just reading my ‘Five Little 
Peppers.’ Do you want me, Mother?” 

“The clothes are all ready to hang out, 
and I would like a little girl to help me 
with the basket of clothespins.” 

Doris closed her book, and hurried 
through the hall into the kitchen. She 
was nine years old, and had always lived 
on the top floor of an apartment block 
in a big city. It was only one flight of 
stairs to the roof, and Mrs. King hung 
her clothes up there, where they would 
get plenty of fresh air, and sunshine. 

[112] 


The Pansy Beds 

Ever since Doris was big enough, she 
had carried the clothespins for her 
mother, and a trip to the roof seemed al¬ 
most like a trip into the clouds. 

“Here I am. Mother!” cried Doris, 
picking up (he basket of pins. “Shall 
I go first?” 

“Yes, you may go first! I wonder if 
you remember, Doris,” said her mother 
laughing, “how you missed a step when 
you were quite small, and fell over 
backwards right into the basket of wet 
clothes.” 

“Oh, Mother, did I cry?” 

“Cry! Oh, yes, because you spilled 
nearly all the clothespins.” 

“And you kissed me, and helped pick 
them up, didn’t you. Mother?” 

“I believe I did,” said Mrs. King, set¬ 
ting down the heavy basket. 

[113] 


The Happy-Tbought Story Book 

Doris waited until the clothes were all 
on the lines, and then she took her 
mother’s hand, and together they walked 
over to the other side of the roof. Up 
and down the street, on both sides, were 
rows and rows of other blocks, just like 
the one in which Doris lived. But they 
could look off over the tops of the build¬ 
ings, and see the green hills, or look up 
and watch the soft, fleecy clouds as they 
sailed away. 

“Tell me what it is like over there. 
Mother,” and Doris pointed to the hills, 
which seemed so far away. 

Mrs. King smiled down at the bright 
face upturned to hers. “I have told you 
so many times, Doris, you must know it 
by heart.” 

“I do, almost, but please tell me once 
more. Mother.” 

[114] 


The Pansy Beds 

Mrs. King shaded her eyes with her 
hand, and was silent for a long moment. 

“There are no blocks over there,” 
suggested Doris. 

“No, there are no blocks, little daugh¬ 
ter, and people live in houses all by 
themselves. There are lawns like green 
velvet carpets, and-” 

“Do they step on them?” interrupted 
Doris. 

“Step on them? Why, yes,” explained 
her mother. “There are no signs 
which say ‘Keep Off’ as there are in the 
City Parks. And there are flowers, and 
beautiful trees; sometimes there is room 
for chickens, and a nice dog, or a 
kitty.” 

“I would love to live ‘over there,’ 
Mother.” 

“Perhaps we shall some day, Doris. 

[115] 


I 



The Happy-Thought Story Book 

I hope so, and Daddy wants to get away 
from the city, too.” 

“We’ll never stop wishing, will we. 
Mother!” declared Doris, as they turned 
to go back downstairs. 

During the winter months, Doris and 
her mother seldom went up on the roof. 
It was cold and windy, and the hills were 
snow-capped. But by and by, there 
came the first warm days of spring, and 
it was on one of these days, that Doris’s 
father came home earlier than usual. 

“Where is everybody?” he shouted. 
And as Doris came into the hall, he 
picked her up and whirled her round 
and round a number of times. 

“What is it. Daddy?” she asked, as 
soon as she could get her breath. 

“Such wonderful news! But let’s 

[ii6] 


The Pansy Beds 

find Mother so that she can hear, too.” 

Mrs. King was setting the table, when 
they came into the dining-room. 

“Listen, Mother! Daddy has a 
s’prise, I guess. Go ahead. Daddy!” 

“Well,” said Mr. King, sitting down 
and taking Doris on his knee. “I was 
out in the country to-day, and what do 
you think I found? The nicest little 
bungalow you ever saw! And it was for 
rent.” 

“What’s a bung’low. Daddy?” 

“Oh, I forgot, of course, you don’t 
know, but Mother does. See how Her 
eyes are shining! It’s a house all by it¬ 
self, Doris, with no other house attached 
to it, the way they build blocks. It has 
five or six rooms, just big enough for 
three! There are no elevators, and no 

[117] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

dark rooms; but so many windows that 
little breezes can dance right in one 
window, and out the other. And sun¬ 
beams can stretch themselves ’way across 
the rooms all day long!” 

“What else did you see?” asked Doris 
excitedly. 

“Not very far away, I saw a big field 
where daisies and buttercups grow, and 
I thought, ‘How Doris will love to go 
in there and pick her arms full of 
flowers!’ ” 

“Oh, Daddy!” cried Doris, clapping 
her hands. “Are we truly going to live 
in that little bung’low?” 

“Yes, we truly are! By the first of 
June, we’ll be all settled.” 

Doris jumped down, and ran into her 
mother’s arms. “Did you wish hard all 
winter?” she whispered. 

[ii8] 


The Pansy Beds 

“Every day!” said her mother, kiss¬ 
ing her. 

For days after they moved, Doris was 
so happy she hardly took time to eat. 
Her little feet scampered here, there, and 
everywhere, and at night when her 
mother tucked her into bed, she would 
ask sleepily: 

“Will it all be here to-morrow. 
Mother?” 

And every night, her mother would 
answer: 

“,Yes, it will all be here to-morrow for 
you, and Daddy, and Mother.” 

Every day, there was some new pleas¬ 
ure! When her father brought home 
a long piece of rope, and hung it from 
the big apple-tree, Doris asked curi¬ 
ously : 

“What’s that for. Daddy?” 

[119] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

She watched him notch a board and 
set it in the swing. “Why, it is just like 
a seat!” she exclaimed. 

“Come and try it,” invited her father. 
“Now, take hold of the rope with both 
hands, and see what happens.” 

When Doris was nicely balanced, he 
gave her a push and away she went. 

“Oh, Daddy! I just love this. 
Mother, Mother, see what I’ve got!” she 
shouted, as her mother came across the 
lawn. Doris soon learned how to 
swing herself by digging her toes into 
the soft earth, and then letting go. 

One Saturday afternoon, while in the 
swing, she saw her father walking 
towards the garage, carrying a spade 
in his hand. 

“Want to come, Doris?” he called. 

Cl20] 


The Pansy Beds 

Doris jumped out of the swing, 
and ran after him, “Another s’prise, 
Daddy?” 

“You’ll see in a moment,” he an¬ 
swered. 

When they reached the garage, he 
swung back the door, and Doris saw 
several baskets of flowers, all ready to 
set out. 

“I’m going to make some flower-beds 
for your mother, and you may have one 
all your own. You can choose the 
flowers you like best, and Daddy will 
help you plant them. And when your 
flowers are thirsty,”—with a smile, he 
drew something out of the back of the 
car, “here is a little watering-can for 
you to use.” 

“Oh, what fun!” cried Doris. “If 

[I2l] 


The Happy-Tbought Story Book 

I’m careful, my flowers will think it is 
raining, won’t they?” 

“I guess they will,” he assured her 
laughingly. “If you get the can too 
full, they may think it is a heavy 
shower.” 

After spending some time looking 
over the baskets, Doris decided on 
the pansies. “I like these best of all. 
Daddy, they have such dear little faces. 
They’ll look right up at me when I’m 
sprinkling them!” 

Doris stood by, while her father dug 
up the turf, and in a short time there was 
a nice bed all ready for the pansies. 
Then he put the plants into the ground, 
and showed her how to press the dirt 
snugly around the roots. 

The watering-can was used very faith- 

[122] 


The Pansy Beds 

fully, and before long, there were dozens 
of pansy faces waiting to be picked. 
Doris gathered a handful every morn¬ 
ing. And wonder of wonders! The 
next day, there were just as many more 
pansy faces I 

Doris had been very happy for a time 
in her new home, but now she began to 
think about a playmate. One sunny 
morning, when she was gathering some 
flowers for the table, she looked up and 
was delighted to see a little girl standing 
by the gate. She was a very untidy 
child. Her dark hair was tangled; her 
dress was torn; her socks had dropped 
down around her ankles, and from the 
toe of one of her shoes, peeked the “lit¬ 
tle pig that went to market.” 

Her face was very wistful as she 

[123] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

watched Doris select her pansies. 
Doris smiled at her visitor, then got up 
and went over to the gate. 

“Would you like to see my pansy 
bed?” she invited, taking hold of the lit¬ 
tle girl’s hand. 

The child looked down at Doris’s 
clean hand, and quickly drew her own 
away. Doris had not noticed how dirty 
she was; this little stranger’s eyes told 
her that she loved flowers. Doris took 
her hand again, and gently drew her 
round in front of the pansy bed. For a 
few moments, they stood in silence, gaz¬ 
ing at a yellow butterfly flitting from 
one flower to another. 

“Shall I pick some for you?” asked 
Doris, trying to make friends. 

Her visitor nodded shyly, and two 
dimples came into view. 

[124] 





Huat' 














s 




Doris took her hand again.—P age 124 







































The Pansy Beds 

“Well, then, tell me your name. 
Mine is Doris.” 

The brown eyes twinkled for an in¬ 
stant, then she announced gravely: 
“Becky, when I’m good. Re-becca, 
when I don’t want to mind.” 

“But you’re Becky most of the time, I 
guess,” said Doris, as she laid the flow¬ 
ers she had just gathered on the grass. 
“Those are for Mother, and now I’ll pick 
some for you.” 

Becky walked around the bed, but she 
did not touch the pansies. She smiled 
gratefully at Doris, when she put the 
flowers in her hand, and then hurried 
away through the gate. 

“Good-by!” called Doris. Becky 
turned around and waved her flowers, 
but she did not stop, and was soon out 
of sight. After that, Becky came often, 

[125] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

and the children had many happy times 
together. Mrs. King was pleased that 
Doris had some one to play with. 

But one morning, Doris’ father took 
them into town, and they were away all 
day. As soon as Doris got home, she 
went at once for her watering-can. “I 
know my pansies must be thirsty,” she 
explained to her mother. But before 
long, there was a pattering of little feet 
up the steps, and through the hall. 

“Mother!” cried Doris, her voice full 
of tears. “Oh, Mother! My pansies 1” 
“Why, what has happened, Doris?” 
But Doris couldn’t talk. Together, 
they went to the garden. The pansy 
bed, which had been so beautiful in the 
morning, was now a sorry sight. Every 
flower had been picked, and some plants 
torn up by the roots. 

[126] 


The Pansy Beds 

“Who could have done it?” asked 
Doris, her tears falling fast. 

“I don’t know, dear. We’ll just try 
not to think who did it. Daddy may 
take some of my pansies and put them in 
your bed, where they have been torn up, 
and it will look almost as good as new.” 

Mrs. King was very thoughtful as she 
went back to the house. After supper, 
she left Doris with her Daddy, arid in a 
short time, she came to the place where 
Becky lived. One of the older children 
invited her in, and said she would call 
her mother. As soon as Mrs. King was 
seated, she saw that she was not alone. 
A tiny gray-haired lady was sitting by 
the window, and all around her, on the 
window-sill and on the table in front of 
her, were bottles and saucers, filled with 
pansies. 


[127] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

Doris’ mother drew her chair nearer 
the little lady, who was Becky’s grand¬ 
mother, and spoke to her pleasantly. 

“Pansies are my favorite flowers,” she 
explained, “and this morning, Becky 
came home with her hands full. I’d 
like to thank the lady who gave them to 
her, but Becky wouldn’t tell. She’s a 
queer child!” 

Before Mrs. King could reply, 
Becky rushed into the room. 

“Grandma,—” she began. When she 
saw Doris’s mother, her eyes grew round 
and big, and without a word, she fled in 
dismay. She was sure she could never 
play with Doris again! 

Mrs. King stayed a few minutes 
longer, and visited with Becky’s mother, 
but Becky didn’t come into the room 
again. When she got home, Doris had 

[128] 


The Pansy Beds 

gone to bed, and while she was sleeping, 
her father made another flower-bed just 
the same size as hers. 

It was raining hard the next morning, 
and Doris couldn’t go out. She didn’t 
expect to see Becky, but the third morn¬ 
ing was warm and sunny, and as soon as 
she opened her eyes, she thought: 
“Becky will come to-day.” 

She ran out to see her pansies before 
breakfast, and in a moment, she saw the 
new bed. What did it mean? 

“Mother!” she exclaimed, rushing 
into the kitchen, “there’s another flower¬ 
bed right beside of mine. Is it yours?” 

“No, dear, when Daddy comes home 
to-night, he’s going to bring enough 
pansies to fill that bed, and another little 
watering-can.” 

“But how can I use two. Mother?” 

[129] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

“The other one is for Becky.” 

“And the other pansy bed is for 
Becky, too?” 

“Yes,” said her mother. “I think 
Becky will enjoy picking her very own 
flowers, don’t you ?” 

“Why, yes,” assented Doris slowly, a 
slight frown appearing between the blue 
eyes. “But she hasn’t been here for 
three days. Mother!” 

“If she doesn’t come to-morrow, we’ll 
go after her,” said Mrs. King cheer¬ 
fully. 

Mr. King had taught Doris how to 
pull up the weeds in her bed without 
disturbing the roots of her flowers. She 
was quite busy the next day, doing this 
work, but she kept thinking, “I won¬ 
der if Becky will come to-day!” and so 

[130] 


The Pansy Beds 

she was quite surprised when she felt a 
pair of hands over her eyes. 

“Becky!” she cried, joyously. And 
sure enough, it was Becky; and a 
cleaner Becky now than when she first 
came. 

Mrs. King saw the children from her 
chamber window. Doris led Becky 
over to the other pansy bed; then she ran 
to the garage, and brought out the new 
watering-can, and put it in Becky’s 
hand. 

“There!” she said, “Mother bought 
this for you, Becky, and you are to have 
this flower-bed for your very own. 
Don’t you like it?” she asked soberly, as 
Becky stood very still, swinging the can 
by the bail. 

Dear little Becky! She had been so 

C131] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

afraid to come, but she couldn’t stay 
away. She wanted to tell Doris’s 
mother how sorry she was! Dropping 
the can, she ran to the house, but stopped 
in the hallway. There Mrs. King 
found her leaning against a chair, not 
knowing whether to go or stay. 

“Why, Becky!” she said, kneeling 
down in front of her. Becky burst into 
tears, and Mrs. King gathered the re¬ 
pentant child into her motherly arms. 
She let her cry for a few minutes, then 
she asked very gently: 

“Did you want to tell me something, 
Becky dear?” 

In a few minutes, Becky had told how 
she came to see Doris, and finding her 
gone, had helped herself to the pansies. 
Feeling sure that Becky had learned her 

[132] 


The Pansy Beds 

lesson, Mrs. King wiped away her tears, 
just as Doris came running in to see why 
Becky didn’t come back. Seeing her 
flushed face, Doris inquired with much 
concern: 

“Is Becky sorry about something. 
Mother?” 

“Yes, but it’s all right now.” 

Doris slipped an arm around her lit¬ 
tle friend. “We’ve got lots of love for 
Becky, haven’t we. Mother?” 

“And Becky has for us, too!” said her 
mother, smiling down at both children. 
“While you and Becky are watering 
your flowers. I’m going to hide a plate of 
those cookies I made this morning, and 
see if you can find them.” 

Doris clapped her hands, and Becky 
showed her dimples. 

[133] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

They ran back to the garden, and 
when Doris was showing Becky how to 
fill her watering-can, she said: 

“Isn’t Mother funny,—chiding cook¬ 
ies? The best way to find them is with 
our noses. I can smell cookies a long 
way off, can’t you, Becky?” 


[134] 


MISCHIEVOUS TIM 


I OW many children would 
like to have a picnic before 
school closes?” asked Miss 
Carter, of her thirty-five pupils. 

Every right hand was raised high 
above as many bright faces. This was 
followed by a general clapping of 
hands, and a soft tattooing of feet on the 
floor, for a picnic meant a whole day of 
all sorts of fun. 

“I guess that’s settled,” said Miss 
Carter, with a satisfied look. “Now, 
where would be the best place for a 
picnic? I will let you choose, because 
it is to be your picnic, and not mine.” 
“But you’ll go with us, won’t you, 

[135] 






The Happy-Tbought Story Book 

Miss Carter?” inquired one of the chil¬ 
dren. 

“Yes, indeed!” she replied, glancing 
from one row of eager faces to the 
other, “you couldn’t keep me away.” 
Then looking at a dark-eyed little girl in 
one of the front seats, she asked: 
“Where would you like to go, Mary?” 

“Sylvan Grove!” answered Mary, 
promptly. 

Miss Carter’s eyes rested on one of the 
boys who was lolling in his chair. For 
some time, both teachers and children 
had given this boy the name of “Mis¬ 
chievous Tim,” because he loved to play 
tricks; and as his tricks were not always 
in fun, he was almost daily in disgrace. 

“Where would you like to have the 
picnic, Tim?” 

Timmy grinned, and shuffled on to 

[136] 


Mischievous Tim 

his feet. “Riverside Park!” he an¬ 
nounced loudly. 

“Sylvan Grove and Riverside Park 
have been chosen,” said Miss Carter. 
“Now, let’s talk it over, and then we will 
take a vote the way grown-up people do. 
You may tell us why you like Riverside 
Park, Tim.” 

“ ’Cause they have a Merry-Go- 
Round there, and Shoot-the-Chutes.” 

“But they have Slippery-Slides at 
Sylvan Grove,” said little Ruth Clark. 
“And big swings, and seesaws!” 

Mischievous Tim wrinkled his small 
nose, and scowled at Ruth. “Those are 
for girls!” he said, in an undertone. 

But Miss Carter heard him. “All 
good sports are for both boys and girls, 
Tim. Now,” she continued, “I will 
pass a slip of paper to each pupil, and 

[137] 


The Happy-Tbought Story Book 

you may write on it which place you 
prefer for the picnic. The one having 
the largest number of votes will decide 
where we are to go. How many chil¬ 
dren are agreed?” 

Every hand was raised, and after the 
papers were passed, it was very still for 
a few moments. As soon as the teacher 
had collected, and counted the votes, she 
announced: “There are twenty-eight 
votes for Sylvan Grove, and seven for 
Riverside Park.” 

Twenty-eight pairs of hands at once 
expressed their delight, while seven 
pupils sat quietly in their chairs. 

Miss Carter smiled down at the dis¬ 
appointed ones. She knew that every 
child could have a happy time at Sylvan 
Grove. Stepping to the edge of the 
platform, she said: 

[138] 


Mischievous Tim 

“There’s a big word in the dictionary 
which means that everybody is agreed, 
that they are of one mind, or the same 
opinion. That word is ‘Unanimous.’ 
Don’t you think it would be fine, if the 
seven children who voted for River¬ 
side Park would show that they are just 
as willing to go to Sylvan Grove; and 
then we could have what older people 
call a ‘unanimous vote.’ Now, let’s take 
a vote this way: All those who are sure 
we can have a good time at Sylvan 
Grove, rise!” 

Every one stood up but Mischievous 
Tim, who twisted sulkily around in his 
chair. 

“Don’t you want to vote?” asked Miss 
Carter. 

Mischievous Tim shook his head. 
“Sylvan Grove’s no good!” he declared. 

[139] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

“Well, thirty-five of us are going to 
have a fine time, aren’t we, children?” 
To which they all shouted: “Yes.” 

The day of the picnic was warm and 
sunny. They were to meet at the school- 
house at nine o’clock, and at the ap¬ 
pointed time, everybody was there but 
Alice Taylor, and Mischievous Tim. 

“I wonder where Alice is; we don’t 
want to go without her,” and Miss 
Carter looked anxiously up the street. 

It was only a few minutes, however, 
before Alice came on the run, bringing 
her little sister Bessie with her. 

“I couldn’t come without Bessie, Miss 
Carter. Mother is going away, and 
there was no one to leave her with.” 

“You did just right, Alice, and we are 
glad to have you, dear,” taking hold of 

[140] . 


Mischievous Tim 

Bessie’s hand. “I’ll help you look after 
her part of the time.” 

There was such a chattering that Miss 
Carter could hardly make herself heard, 
when she called to them that the car was 
coming. Just as she looked around to 
see that every one had gotten on, she saw 
Mischievous Tim clamber into the back 
seat. “Funny boy!” she said, with a 
smile. “He wanted to come all the 
time. But I do hope he’ll behave!” 

It was only a half-hour’s ride to the 
Grove. As soon as a couple of long 
tables had been selected, they were 
heaped with boxes and baskets of 
lunches, and then the children scattered 
to try everything there was to make 
thirty-five youngsters happy. Before 
long, every swing and seesaw was in mo- 

[141] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

tion, and a bunch of smaller children 
were taking turns on the Slippery Slide. 
They all seemed to be having the best 
kind of a time but Mischievous Tim. 
He had scowled at Miss Carter when 
he got off the car; and now he was walk¬ 
ing around with his hands deep in his 
pockets, going from one group to the 
other. 

‘T can’t watch him all the time,” she 
thought. “I must get the tables ready, 
for the morning will pass quickly. 
With little Bessie, there will be eighteen 
children to a table.” 

One or two of the older girls offered 
to help, and they were busy opening 
bags and boxes, when Miss Carter heard 
a piercing scream. Glancing quickly 
in the direction whence the sound came, 
she saw Mischievous Tim astride a see- 

[142] 


Mischievous Tim 

saw on the same end with Ruth Clark. 
The weight of both Ruth and Tim held 
the other child high in the air, frighten¬ 
ing her. Mischievous Tim was shak¬ 
ing with laughter, and Ruth was using 
her fists on his back, in a vain effort to 
make him get off. 

Miss Carter ran to the seesaw, and 
pulling Tim off, she spoke sharply to 
him. “I am almost tempted to send you 
home,” she declared. “Why can’t you 
stop teasing people for one day?” 

Mischievous Tim did not reply, but 
with a sudden twitch, he loosened her 
hold on him, and ran away. In a short 
time, there was more trouble. This 
time, he had pulled up the croquet wick¬ 
ets right in the middle of a game. Some 
of the children tried to catch him, but 
Mischievous Tim led them a merry 

[143] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

chase, and was not seen again until time 
for lunch. 

“There is good in him, if I only knew 
how to reach the boy!” thought Miss 
Carter, as she saw Tim politely pass the 
food to those nearest him, before help¬ 
ing himself. 

The tables were set with paper plates, 
paper napkins, and tin spoons. Be¬ 
side each child’s plate was a bottle of 
milk, and two straws. How they did 
eat! Sandwiches and cake disappeared 
as if by magic, and Miss Carter was so 
amused that she almost forgot to eat her 
own lunch. 

About an hour before it was time to 
take the car, she called all the children to 
her, and producing a small bag, asked 
them to guess what was in it. As no one 

[144] 


Mischievous Tim 

guessed right, she tried to help them out, 
by saying: 

“There is one for each child!” 

“Why, Miss Carter,” exclaimed 
Alice, “how can there be thirty-five 
things in so small a bag?” 

Before she could answer. Mischiev¬ 
ous Tim reached over, and gave the bag 
a squeeze. 

“Nickels!” he shouted. 

“Oh-h-h!” screamed the children. 
“Ice-cream cones!” 

“Right you are!” announced Miss 
Carter. “Now, stand in line, and Mis¬ 
chievous Tim may be the leader.” 

As they filed by, she put a nickel in the 
palm of each child’s hand, and they all 
visited the Ice-Cream Man. 

Everybody was happy, until Mis- 

[145] 


The Happy-Tbought Story Book 

chievous Tim sprinkled some sand on 
the cone of one of the boys, but Miss 
Carter bought him another, and Tim 
laughed as though he thought it a big 
joke. 

When it was time to start for home, 
little Bessie Taylor was missing. No 
one had seen her since their ice-cream 
treat. 

“Oh, I hope she’s not lost!” said 
Miss Carter, gazing anxiously around. 
“But don’t cry, Alice, we’ll find her. 
And where is Mischievous Tim? Is he 
missing, too?” 

“He was here a few minutes ago, Miss 
Carter,” said Johnny Walker. 

, As soon as Mischievous Tim learned 
that little Bessie was missing, he slipped 
away, and disappeared among the trees. 
Before he had gone very far, Tim came 

[146] 


Mischievous Tim 

to a road. He looked both ways, call¬ 
ing loudly, but no one answered. Then 
he ran down the road until he came 
to the open fields, and called again. 
Bessie always came to school with her 
hands full of flowers, and he was sure 
she had wandered away to find some. 

Turning off the road, Tim went 
straight across the fields, and pushing 
through same tall bushes, he came upon 
a noisy brook, tumbling over the stones 
in a swift current. In some places, the 
water was quite deep, and at any other 
time, Tim would have stopped and 
waded in it. Suddenly, he saw a piece 
of white lawn with blue figures in it, 
caught on a bush. 

“A piece of Bessie’s dress!” he ex¬ 
claimed. “She can’t be very far away 
now.” 

[147] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

Hurrying along, and following the 
brook, Tim went another quarter of a 
mile. He was just going to shout 
again, when he spied a small figure part 
way up the bank, lying under a big tree. 
It was little Bessie fast asleep! Walk¬ 
ing cautiously towards the sleeping 
child. Mischievous Tim stood for a mo¬ 
ment, looking down at her. Those who 
thought Timmy a really bad boy should 
have seen how radiant his face was now. 
You see. Mischievous Tim had a secret! 
While he went out of his way to torment 
the older boys and girls, he loved little 
children. He often shared his candy 
and apples with them, and did things to 
help them out of their troubles, and make 
them happy. 

What he saw was a little child with 
very wet feet, her dress soiled and torn. 

[148] 


Mischievous Tim 

She had been crying, for her cheeks 
were streaked with dirt, where she had 
wiped away her tears with her small 
fists. 

Tim wished he were big enough to 
pick her up in his arms, and run back 
to the Grove with her. But as he was 
only a small lad, he touched her gently 
on the shoulder, saying: 

“Bessie, wake up! I’ve come to take 
you home.” 

Bessie stirred and sighed, but it 
needed quite a shaking to make her open 
her eyes. 

Finally she sat up, and held out her 
arms. “Timmy!” she cried, “I’m 
glad you came.” 

Mischievous Tim looked all around 
to make sure they were alone before he 
shyly knelt beside her. “What made 

[149] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

you come all the way over here, Bessie?” 

“Flowers!” she answered, showing 
her dimples. But as Timmy did not 
smile back, she hurried on: “Then I 
saw a butterfly, and tried to catch him; 
but he flied right down to the brook, and 
went across.” 

“And you wet your feet,” said Tim 
soberly. “And then you didn’t know 
the way back.” 

“And .1 cried,” admitted Bessie, her 
lip quivering. 

“Well, let’s hurry back now,” he said 
hastily, not wanting her to cry again. 
“Miss Carter is waiting for us.” 

“Was I losted?” she asked, her blue 
eyes beaming on him. 

“Yes, I guess you were,” admitted 
Tim, taking her hands, and helping her 

[150] 


Mischievous Tim 

to her feet. But the child fell back with 
a gasp. 

“What is it?” inquired the boy hastily. 

“My foot, Timmy! Oh, I can’t 
walk.” 

“Never mind,” he said soothingly. 
“Just watch me. I’m going to make 
something.” 

Pulling out his knife, Tim cut a 
number of thick branches and tied them 
together with a piece of stout twine 
which he found in his pocket. Then 
he took off his coat and spread it over the 
boughs. 

“Now, Bessie, I can’t carry you on 
my back, so I’m going to give you a 
ride,” and lifting her up in his arms, 
Tim placed her very carefully on his 
coat, with her back to him, so she 

[151] 


The Happy-Tbought Story Book 

wouldn’t fall over backwards. This 
made a nice drag, and Bessie laughed 
gleefully. They had to go slowly for 
the ground was humpy, but in half an 
hour. Mischievous Tim and his charge 
came into the Grove. Several people 
had been hunting for Bessie, as neither 
Miss Carter nor Alice would go home 
without her. 

“Here she is!” shouted a group of 
children, “and Mischievous Tim is with 
her.” 

Miss Carter’s feet fairly flew over the 
ground, and she gave the boy such a 
hug that he almost upset his passenger. 
Kneeling down, she drew Bessie into her 
arms, while everybody crowded around 
them, 

“I’m so glad you’re found!” she cried. 
“Now, we must start for home right 

[152] 



This made a nice drag.—P ayc 152 

























I 


Mischievous Tim 

away. And you’ll have to leave your 
green-bough carriage behind.” 

“Something’s the matter with her 
foot,” explained Tim soberly. 

“Oh, that’s why you had to ride! 
Which foot is it?” And Miss Carter 
looked at the child with some concern. 

“This one,” said Bessie, lifting her 
left foot. Miss Carter hastily removed 
the shoe, and out rolled a good-sized 
pebble. 

The children all laughed at Tim’s 
look of surprise, as Bessie picked up the 
pebble, and held it towards him. 

“That’s what hurted, Timmy.” 

“Yes,” Miss Carter assured her, set¬ 
ting Bessie on her feet. “The little 
pebble got lost in your shoe, and you 
got lost in the woods. But everything 
is all right now.” 

[153] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

“And Timmy found me,” said Bessie, 
smoothing out her short skirts. “I love 
Timmy, I do!” 

“Of course you do!” declared Miss 
Carter, turning around to smile at Mis¬ 
chievous Tim, but he was nowhere to be 
seen. When they got to the car, they 
found him talking with the motorman, 
as though finding lost children were an 
everyday occurrence. 

Miss Carter was quite thoughtful all 
the way home. She had seen another 
side of Mischievous Tim, and Bessie 
knew him better than the teacher did, 
for she loved him. He had always 
been such a trying boy, upsetting the 
school many times, frightening the chil¬ 
dren with bugs and toy snakes. But he 
had brought Bessie back, and proved 
himself very capable, too. 

[154] 


Mischievous Tim 

“I wonder if I can’t love him, too!” 
And she gave little Bessie’s hand a lov¬ 
ing squeeze. 

Monday morning, when Mischievous 
Tim shuffled into his seat as usual, he 
immediately looked around to see what 
he could do. Miss Carter was watch¬ 
ing him I Finally, Tim caught her eye, 
and instead of speaking sternly, she 
smiled. Tim straightened around in 
his chair; he wanted to smile, too, but 
his teachers had never been friendly. 
But somehow this smile was different! 
All day. Mischievous Tim attended to 
his lessons, and when the children 
passed out, at the close of the session. 
Miss Carter laid her hand on his shoul¬ 
der, and drew him out of the line. The 
others went along, leaving the teacher 
and pupil together. 

[155] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

“This has been a good day, Timmy, 
don’t you think so?” 

Tim thrust his hands into his pockets, 
and shifted awkwardly from one foot to 
the other. 

“Do you know, Timmy,” she con¬ 
tinued, “I’ve decided to change your 
name from Mischievous Tim to Trusty 
Tim. Do you think you can live up 
to it?” 

The boy was silent, his head lowered, 
but he was thinking. He remem¬ 
bered the smile of the morning, and 
wondered if his teacher really meant it. 
Then, much to his joy and surprise. 
Miss Carter held out her hand to him, 
like a real comrade. 

Instantly, a different Timmy stood be¬ 
fore her. 

“I’ll try. Miss Carter,” he replied 

[156] 


Mischievous Tim 

eagerly, placing his small hand in hers. 

From that time on, Mischievous Tim 
was a changed lad. He still loved 
good fun, but he didn’t torment people 
any more. When the children heard 
their teacher call him “Trusty Tim,” 
they began to call him that, too. Be¬ 
fore long, the old name was forgotten, 
and Trusty Tim was a far happier boy 
than Mischievous Tim ever thought of 
being. 


[157] 


RUTH’S DREAM 


R uth grant and her little 

friend, Alice May, had been 
very busy all the morning, cut¬ 
ting out paper dolls. They worked so 
quietly at times, that aside from the tick¬ 
ing of the clock, the only sound to be 
heard was the snip, snip, of their scis¬ 
sors. 

“There!” exclaimed Alice May joy¬ 
ously, “I’ve finished three whole fam¬ 
ilies, Ruth,—three fathers, three moth¬ 
ers, besides boys, and girls, and babies. 
How many have you done?” 

“I’m on my third family now,” said 
Ruth. “Please see if you can find me a 
nurse-girl for this baby, Alice May, and 

[158] 


Ruth’s Dream 

then that is all I’m going to do, to-day.” 

Alice May handed Ruth a nurse-girl, 
and picking up a nice-looking boy doll, 
selected a cap for him. 

“What shall we do next?” she asked. 

“I s’pose we’ve got to pick up all these 
papers,” said Ruth, looking at them 
with a pout. Suddenly she turned to 
the open window. 

“Do you hear that, Alice May?” 

Alice May laid the boy doll on the 
table, and his cap dropped off. For a 
moment, she listened intently. 

“Hand-organ!” she cried. 

“And there’ll be a monkey!” shouted 
Ruth. “Let’s go!” 

Both chairs were overturned in their 
haste, and a mass of paper clippings fell 
from their laps. They left the door 
open as they ran out, and in no time, an 

[159] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

army of little breezes scurried in, send¬ 
ing the clippings racing over the floor. 

Before the children had reached the 
corner of the street, the room looked as 
though there had been a paper snow¬ 
storm. And the doll families were all 
mixed up! Some of the children were 
blown under the couch. Two mothers 
were lying face-down in the fireplace. 
A father doll, holding a baby which 
Alice May had pasted in his arms, was 
leaning against a table leg. 

“Ha! ha!” laughed the breezes. 
“Ruth won’t care what we do; she’s not 
a tidy little girl.” 

But Ruth’s mother, coming through 
the hall a few minutes later, looked at 
the room in dismay. Ruth was such a 
lovable child, she wondered why it was 
so hard for her to be orderly. She 

[i6o] 


Ruth’s Dream 

closed the front door firmly, and the 
little breezes, realizing that their fun 
was over, fluttered right through the 
open window. 

The man with the hand-organ stopped 
in front of Alice May’s home. Her 
mother was sitting at a window over the 
piazza, and after some coaxing, the 
man persuaded the monkey to climb the 
trellis, and pay her a call. The chil¬ 
dren thought it great fun to watch him, 
and when Alice May’s mother gave him 
some money, and he politely tipped his 
cap to her, they shrieked with laughter. 
When the monkey came down, he 
hopped up on the hand-organ, and gave 
the coin to his master. Both children 
shook hands with him, and after play¬ 
ing one more tune, they went off down 
the street. 

[i6i] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

“Aren’t you children hungry?” called 
Alice May’s mother from the window. 

“Yes, Mother, we are,” answered 
Alice May. “May I ask Ruth to have 
lunch with me?” 

Her mother nodded, and Alice May 
turned to Ruth. “You’ll stay, won’t 
you?” 

“I’ll have to ask Mother first. Then 
I’ll come right back,” she called over 
her shoulder, as she ran towards home. 

But as Ruth crossed the lawn, she re¬ 
membered the paper dolls, and also that 
her little bed was not made. Walking 
slowly into the house, she met her 
mother in the hall. 

“May I have lunch with Alice May, 
Mother?” 

“Not to-day,” said Mrs. Grant, shak- 

[162] 


Ruth’s Dream 

ing her head, and glancing into the liv¬ 
ing room. “I’m sorry, Ruth, but you 
have played all the morning, and now 
you have quite a lot to do.” 

Ruth was only ten years old, but she 
had been taught how to spread up her 
bed, put away her clothes, and keep her 
room in order. At first, it had been 
fun, but now she had to be told nearly 
every day! She thought her shoes were 
all right under the bed where she could 
find them quickly. It was a bother to 
put them in the closet! 

Mrs. Grant helped Ruth pick up the 
paper dolls, and then she said: “Now, 
dear, before you do anything else, you 
must take care of your room.” 

Ruth made no reply, but as she went 
upstairs, she wondered why her mother 

[163] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

made her do things that were not pleas¬ 
ant. It was vacation time, and she 
wanted to play, not work. 

Before Ruth’s tenth birthday, she 
went to visit her grandmother for a few 
days, and while she was away, her 
mother had planned to surprise her, by 
furnishing a room which she could call 
her own. Ruth had been delighted with 
the gray wicker chairs, with their bright 
cushions; the brass bed, and white dim¬ 
ity coverlet, with pink rosebuds scat¬ 
tered over it; the dainty chiffonier, 
and the dresser with the white ivory 
toilet set. Then there was the closet, 
with hooks where she could reach them, 
and lots of hangers for her dresses, just 
like her mother’s. 

After Ruth had inspected everything, 
and found so many things to make her 

[164] 


Ruth's Dream 

happy, Mrs. Grant had looked at her 
little daughter, and said: “I’m glad 
you like it, dear, and I want you to keep 
it just as dainty as it is now.” 

Ruth had thought she would, but to¬ 
day when she reached her room, she sat 
down on the bed, and gazed around. 

A white dress which she had worn the 
day before, was thrown across a chair. 
On the floor were a pair of soiled socks, 
and her white shoes. One of the 
dresser drawers was open, with some 
clothes hanging out. Her brush and 
comb were untidy; the bed was not 
made; and the closet door stood open, 
showing her raincoat and rubbers in a 
heap on the floor, just where she had 
tossed them. Such a lot of work to do! 
Tears blinded her eyes, shutting out the 
sunlight, and making her think that 

[165] 


The Happy-Tbought Story Book 

Ruth was a very much-abused little girl. 

Flinging herself down on the bed, 
she buried her face in her arms. And 
there her mother found her, fast asleep! 
Closing the door softly, without waking 
her, she went away and left Ruth alone 
in the untidy room. 

For over an hour, Ruth slept peace¬ 
fully. But suddenly, she sat up with a 
jerk, and blinking her eyes to keep them 
open, she stared at her little rocker by 
the window. Surely some one had 
been sitting in it just a few moments 
ago! But there was no one there now! 
Ruth was very wide awake, as she slid 
off the bed, and was soon working as she 
had never worked before. “I mustn’t 
forget it!” she kept saying to herself. 
“I must hurry so I can tell Mother!” 

In twenty minutes, Ruth ran down- 

[i66] 


Ruth’s Dream 

stairs, and found her mother in the sun- 
parlor, sewing. 

“Did you have a nice nap, dear?” she 
asked, at the same time, noting her clean 
dress, and nicely brushed hair. 

Without replying, Ruth pushed aside 
her mother’s work, and slipped into her 
lap. Mrs. Grant was sure something 
unusual had happened, or else Ruth 
had a surprise for her. 

“Mother!” she said, her voice soft¬ 
ened with wonder. “I dreamed!” 

“Well, didn’t you ever dream be¬ 
fore?” asked Mrs. Grant with a smile. 
“Do you remember what it was all 
about?” 

“Oh, yes. I’ll never forget it,” an¬ 
swered Ruth soberly. “I came down 
to tell you, just as soon as I could.” 

As Ruth was about to begin, the 

[167] 


The 'Happy-Thought Story Book 

screen door slammed, and Alice May 
came bounding through the hall, stop¬ 
ping in the doorway. 

“Come right in, dear,” invited Mrs. 
Grant. “Ruth is going to tell me some¬ 
thing, would you like to hear it, 
too?” 

Alice May helped herself to a chair. 
“Oh, yes. Is it a story, Ruth?” 

“No, a dream!” 

A dream! Alice May puffed out 
her cheeks in surprise. “Why,” she 
laughed, “I always forget mine as soon 
as I open my eyes.” 

Ruth smiled at her little friend. 
“Well, you just listen, Alice May, and 
I’ll tell you and Mother what mine was. 
I couldn’t come back and have lunch 
with you, because my room was so un¬ 
tidy. When I went upstairs to make 

[i68] 


Ruth’s, Dream 

my bed, I felt cross about it, so I lay 
down, and before I knew it, I was fast 
asleep. I had been asleep but a few 
minutes, when I heard the funniest 
noise, just like a cackle. I sat up and 
rubbed my eyes, but of course I wasn’t 
awake. And what do you think I saw? 
Over in my rocker by the window, sat 
the queerest-looking little old lady.” 

“Oh-h-h!” and Alice May wriggled 
in her chair excitedly. “What was she 
like?” 

“Her dress was ragged and dirty; her 
shoes were untied; her hair was un¬ 
combed, and hung down on her shoul¬ 
ders. When she laughed, she didn’t 
seem to have any teeth.” 

“Just like a witch! Were you afraid 
of her?” Alice May’s voice was little 
more than a whisper. 

[169] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

“Oh, no!” Ruth assured her. “She 
was so tiny, and she didn’t come near 
me. She kept rocking back and forth, 
swinging her feet. When I asked her 
how she got in, she cackled again, 
and said: ‘I come almost every day, 
through the window. I’ve been wait¬ 
ing for you to see me. I’m Madam Un¬ 
tidy, and this room is the way I like it, 
everything out of place. I never go 
into your mother’s room—looks too 
nice,’ and sliding out of the chair, she 
picked up my shoes, and tossed them 
into a corner. Then she threw things 
around until I covered up my head. 
‘You’re like me,’ she kept saying, ‘you 
don’t care how things look!’ But I 
do. Mother,” burst out Ruth, “I’m go¬ 
ing to care now!” 

Mrs. Grant put her arm around her 

[170] 


Ruth’s Dream 

little daughter, and Alice May tried 
hard to sit still. 

“Hurry, Ruth, what happened next? 
How did you get rid of Madam Un¬ 
tidy?” 

“I’ll tell you how I got rid of her,” 
continued Ruth, her eyes shining. “I 
got off the bed, and taking her by the 
arm, I said, ‘I’m not like you; I don’t 
like being untidy, and you get right out 
of here.’ ” 

“Goody! Goody!” Alice May was 
dancing now. “And did she go?” she 
asked breathlessly. 

“Yes, she went,” replied Ruth. “I 
walked over to the closet to hang up my 
raincoat, and she went out the window. 
But she wasn’t very far away, for she 
gave a little cackle, and said, ‘I’ll be back 
before long.’ I didn’t want her to come 

[171] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

back, so I worked as fast as I could. 
While I was putting my handkerchiefs 
in a neat pile, I heard a laugh like the 
tinkling of a bell.” 

Alice May clapped her hands ex¬ 
citedly. “Oh, I just love this dream!” 
she exclaimed. 

“Guess who that was!” said Ruth. 

“A fairy! Was it, Ruth, was it?” 

“Perhaps so. I turned around to see 
where the laugh came from, and on the 
top of my chiffonier was another little 
lady. She was not much bigger than 
your doll, Alice May, with the bluest 
eyes, golden curls, and such a dainty 
dress! I just stood still and smiled at 
her, and she smiled back at me. ‘Who 
are you ?’ I asked. Before she told me, 
she flew off the chiffonier, and balanced 
herself on the brass rail of my bed. 

[172] 



“Who are you?” I asked.—P age 112, 





































































. \ 

I 

{ 



Ruth’s Dream 

“ ‘It looks very nice here now,’ she 
said, gazing around. ‘I came this 
morning, but it was so dreadful, I went 
away. I couldn’t stand it! Would 
you like to know my name?’ 

“I hardly dared to speak, so I just 
nodded my head, yes. 

“ ‘I’m Miss Order,’ she said shyly, 
fluffing out her lacy skirts. ‘If you kept 
your room as neat as your mother’s, I 
.would come and see you often. But 
when I peek in, the little cackling old 
lady is here, and she throws things 
around so, it isn’t safe for me.’ 

“ ‘She is dreadful 1’ I said, ‘but I 
didn’t know I had visitors every day. I 
should like to have you visit me often, if 
you will.’ 

“Her little tinkling laugh came 
again, and she said, ‘All right, but 

[173] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

you must do your best to keep Madam 
Untidy from coming in through the 
window, for then I go out the door, and 
I don’t come back for a long time.’ ” 

“Where is she now—Miss Order, I 
mean?” asked Alice May eagerly. 

“Oh, I left her up in my room,” re¬ 
plied Ruth, as she met her mother’s 
smile. 

No one spoke for a few moments. 
Alice May was wondering how many 
times Miss Order had looked in her 
room, and gone away. 

“Let’s go up and see if she is still 
there!” she said, catching hold of Ruth’s 
hand. 

“Why, of course, she isn’t,” laughed 
Ruth. “But we’ll go and see.” 

Both children hurried upstairs to 
Ruth’s room, but there were no tiny 

[174] 


Ruth’s Dream 

visitors to be found. They made be¬ 
lieve hunt for them, and after bumping 
their heads under the bed, they backed 
out laughing. 

“I wouldn’t like to meet Madam Un¬ 
tidy under the bed, would you, Ruth?” 
asked Alice May. 

“You mustn’t be afraid of her,” said 
Ruth soberly. “She’ll never come near 
us, if we keep everything in place for 
Miss Order. But wasn’t that a nice 
dream, Alice May?” 

“It was bee-utiful!” answered Alice 
May, with a happy sigh. 


[175] 


THURSDAY 


W ELL, of all the dirty dogs!” 

exclaimed Bobby Lester’s 
Aunt Julia, coming out on 
the back piazza, just as Bobby came up 
the walk. Tagging at his heels was a 
little tramp dog, with no collar, and 
very much in need of a bath. 

“He’s a nice dog. Aunt Julia,” said 
Bobby, turning to pat him. 

Bobby was spending the summer 
with Aunt Julia, while his father and 
mother were away on a long trip. 
Bobby loved her very much, but he 
often thought she didn’t understand 
boys very well,—anyway, boys about 
ten. 


[176] 


T hursday 

“What are you going to do with him, 
Bobby? You know I don’t like dogs. 
I never have liked them, and I never 
shall!’’ Aunt Julia puckered her lips, 
and folded her hands, as though that 
was settled for all time. 

Bobby sat down on the bottom step, 
and drew his new companion close to 
him. “Can’t I keep him?” he asked 
wistfully. 

“Where did you get him?” asked 
Aunt Julia, leaving Bobby in doubt. 

“Why,” Bobby eagerly explained, “I 
was stopping on the curb, watching the 
fire-engines go by. I felt something 
rub my leg, and looking down, I saw 
this little fellow standing beside me, 
wagging his tail. Honestly, Aunt 
Julia, if a dog could talk, he would have 
said, ‘Won’t you have me for your 

[177] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

dog?’ And I should have said, ‘Yes’— 
that is, if he could have talked. Aunt 
Julia!” added Bobby, keeping his eyes 
on the dog. 

“But you don’t even know his name?” 

“Oh, yes, I do,” said Bobby quickly. 
“It’s Thursday.” 

“Thursday! What a queer boy yoii 
are, Bobby. Who ever heard of nam¬ 
ing a dog, Thursday!” 

“But, Aunt Julia, this dog came to me 
on Thursday, and that’s to-day, isn’t 
it?” 

“Yes,” she nodded curtly, “to-day is 
Thursday. But he’s going to leave on 
Thursday, Bobby. You can’t keep that 
dog!” 

Bobby knew it would do no good to 
tease. “Could I give him a bath. Aunt 
Julia? He would look more ’spect- 

[178] 


T hursday 

able, if he’s got to start out again.” 

Aunt Julia frowned. She didn’t care 
how the dog looked, but she knew 
Bobby would enjoy washing him. 

“Yes, you may take the small tub, and 
I’ll get you a cake of ivory soap. But 
when you are through, don’t bring him 
into the house, no matter how white he 
comes out.” And Aunt Julia went in, 
shutting the screen door with a sharp 
snap. 

“Would you like a scrubbing, Thurs¬ 
day?” asked Bobby, scratching the dog 
behind his ears. 

Thursday backed away, and barked 
loudly. When Bobby got up, he sat 
down to see what was going to happen 
next. He watched Bobby bring out 
the tub, and turn the water into it. 
Aunt Julia handed him the soap. 

C179] 


The Happy-Tbought Story Book 

“Come, Thursday, your bath is 
ready!” 

Thursday did not move. He didn’t 
like the looks of things, and of course he 
couldn’t know how dirty he was. He 
had been sleeping under hedges, and 
crawling into holes which he had dug 
himself, so that his coat was rough and 
full of dirt. Before he had time to 
think any more about it, Bobby had 
taken him in his arms, and put him right 
into the tub, which was soon filled with 
suds, and a very wet dog. 

Aunt Julia went in, and peeked 
through the shutters of the pantry win¬ 
dow. When Thursday was laid shiver¬ 
ing on the grass, she threw out an old 
towel for Bobby to wrap around him. 

“That was kind of Aunt Julia, wasn’t 

[i8o] 


T hursday 

it, Thursday? I was just wondering 
how I was going to get you dry.” 

For a few minutes, Bobby worked 
hard. Thursday enjoyed his rub, his 
little pink tongue darting out fre¬ 
quently to lick Bobby’s hands. 

When Thursday was dry, he was still 
black in spots for he was a black and 
white terrier. His ears were black but 
his face was white, except the end of his 
nose; and there were black spots on his 
body. After Bobby’s cleaning, he was 
taken to the door to show Aunt Julia, 
who had to admit that he was rather a 
nice-looking dog. 

“He must be hungry, Bobby. I’ll 
get him something to eat.” 

She brought out a bowl of bread and 
milk, and set it down in the grass. 

[i8i] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

Thursday made a dive for it! He was 
so hungry, he couldn’t even stop to 
taste, and in a few minutes, the dish was 
empty. Just as he was lapping up the 
last crumb, Bobby’s friend, Joey Miller, 
came into the yard. 

“Where’d you get the dog?” he asked, 
grinning. 

“Oh, I picked him up. I’ve just 
given him a bath.” 

“Coin’ to keep him?” 

Before Bobby could answer. Aunt 
Julia asked: “Do you want him, 
Joey?” 

Joey looked puzzled. “He’s Bobby’s 
dog, isn’t he? He found him.” 

“He isn’t anybody’s dog, Joey, he just 
followed Bobby home. I’m not going 
to have him around here I” 

[182] 


T hursday 

“Please, Aunt Julia, let me—” began 
Bobby. 

Joey shifted his eyes from the dog to 
his friend, then back to Aunt Julia. 

“He looks like a knowing dog. Miss 
Lester, and it wouldn’t cost much to 
keep him. I could bring over some 
bones. Besides, he might make a good 
watch-dog!” 

“Watch-dog!” sniffed Aunt Julia. 
“Why, he’s only a half-grown puppy.” 

Bobby said nothing more, but he kept 
drawing Thursday closer to him, until 
his warm cheek rested on the dog’s 
head. He knew Aunt Julia had just 
one idea about a dog. She thought he 
would always be under foot, tracking 
her clean floors; or curling himself up 
in her best chairs, leaving his white 

[183] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

hairs on everything. And Aunt Julia 
was wondering why boys were so fond 
of dogs. But neither Bobby nor Joey 
could tell her. They just were, that’s 
all! 

Finally she said: “We’ll make a bar¬ 
gain, Bobby. I’ll let you keep the dog 
a week, if you’ll promise not to make a 
fuss when he has to go.” 

“All right. Aunt Julia,” assented 
Bobby soberly. “I’ll not make a fuss.” 

As soon as Aunt Julia had gone in, 
Joey sat down beside Bobby. 

“Do you really want to keep that 
tramp puppy?” 

“He’ll be a nice dog when he’s 
trained,” declared Bobby, hopefully. 
“Besides, where would he go?” 

“I don’t know,” drawled Joey, reach¬ 
ing out, and patting Thursday. “He 

[184] 


T hursday 

looks like one of those dogs, Bobby, that 
would be right here the next morning.” 

“Worse luck!” sighed Bobby. 

“Say, boy!” exclaimed Joey, straight¬ 
ening up, “you’ve got a week to make 
your aunt like that pup. And you’ll 
have to do it, if you want to keep him.” 

“I know it, Joey, will you help me?” 

“Of course I’ll help,” assented Joey, 
heartily. “We’ll teach him some tricks, 
and by next Thursday, your Aunt Julia 
will want to keep him tied, so he can’t 
run away.” 

Saturday afternoon. Aunt Julia was 
sitting on the back piazza, mending 
some of Bobby’s stockings. Thursday 
was over in his favorite corner, trying 
to go to sleep. Bobby had gone to a 
ball-game, and he was rather lonesome. 
He wanted to lie down beside Aunt 

[185] 


The Happy-Tbought Story Book 

Julia’s rocker, but even a dog knows 
when he isn’t wanted. 

Thursday was just dozing off, when 
suddenly he heard a familiar whistle. 
This was followed by a thud, as the eve¬ 
ning paper went whack against the 
front door. 

“That’s the paper boy,’’ explained 
Aunt Julia, looking at him over her 
glasses. As if Thursday didn’t know! 
“If you were a smart dog, you’d bring 
me the paper, and I wouldn’t have to go 
after it.” 

Aunt Julia had never seen Joey play 
“paper boy,” while Bobby held Thurs¬ 
day until he heard the paper thrown on 
to the front veranda. When he said, 
“Go get it!” Thursday thought it great 
fun to fetch the paper around, and drop 
it at Bobby’s feet. 

[i86] 


T hursday 

So now Thursday pricked up his ears, 
lifted himself up on his fore feet, and 
yawned. With rather a sheepish look, 
he walked slowly off the piazza. As 
soon as he was out of sight, he ran 
around to the front door, and before 
Aunt Julia had missed him, he came 
back and laid the paper in her lap. 

“Why, Thursday, did you know what 
I said?” 

Thursday cocked his head on one 
side, wagging his tail happily. Then 
he yelped, hoping she would say, “What 
a nice dog you are!” But no. Aunt 
Julia opened the paper and began to 
read. Thursday started back to his 
corner; turning around, he saw that she 
was smiling broadly. Of course, 
Thursday couldn’t know that there was 
anything really funny in the paper. 

[187] 


The Happy-Tbought Story Book 

But the smile drew him! Trotting 
boldly back, he rested his nose on her 
knee. Much to his surprise, she patted 
his head! He kept very still until he 
heard another whistle, when he was 
gone like a flash. His little master had 
come home! 

“That means Bobby is coming, and I 
never knew a boy to be so hungry, as 
when he comes from a ball-game!” 
And Aunt Julia gathered up her mend¬ 
ing, and went in to set the table. 

Every Saturday night, Bobby had to 
sweep the walks around the house, and 
pick up stray papers. After supper, he 
got out a big basket, and Aunt Julia, 
who was standing at the screen door, 
saw Thursday come bounding up the 
steps. He paid no attention to her, for 
his master had sent him on an errand. 

[i88] 


T hursday 

Taking the broom in his teeth, he lifted 
it off the hook, and dragged it out to 
Bobby, who was waiting for him on the 
lawn. 

“Good work, Thursday!” he ex¬ 
claimed. “Now, scamper around, and 
pick up the papers for me.” 

Thursday raced over the lawn, find¬ 
ing papers in the most impossible 
places. These he brought to Bobby, or 
dropped into the basket himself. 

“Bobby certainly works better for 
having that dog tagging after him,” 
thought Aunt Julia. “I suppose he’ll 
miss him,—^well, I can’t help it. I don’t 
like dogs!” 

Wednesday arrived all too soon. 
Bobby was very sober. Only one more 
day to own a dog! Thursday, too, 
thought something was wrong, for he 

[189] 


The Happy-Tbought Story Book 

kept right at Bobby’s heels, and whined 
when he went into the house. 

About four o’clock in the afternoon, 
Bobby was sitting under a big tree, mak¬ 
ing a kite. Aunt Julia had gone to town 
shopping, and Thursday was stretched 
out in the shade, waiting for something 
to happen. And something did hap¬ 
pen! 

Before long. Aunt Julia came hur¬ 
riedly across the lawn, very hot, and 
very red. 

“Bobby,” she exclaimed, “I’ve lost 
my bag, and there was quite a lot of 
money in it. Oh, I don’t know what to 
do I” And Aunt Julia was very near to 
tears. 

“Did you just miss it?” inquired 
Bobby, standing up. 

“Yes, I carried all my bundles in, and 

[190] 


T hursday 

laid them on the kitchen table. But the 
bag was gone!” 

Bobby was thinking hard. Just then, 
Thursday thought it was time to bark. 
They seemed to have forgotten all about 
him! 

Bobby looked down at the dog; and 
Thursday looked up at him, as if he 
were trying to say: “What does it 
all mean ? ” 

“Will you excuse me. Aunt Julia, if 
I whisper to Thursday?” he asked, 
dropping to his knees. 

Aunt Julia’s eyes snapped. It cer¬ 
tainly was a funny time to whisper to a 
dog. 

“Why, yes, Bobby, if you must!” 

“I think I must. Aunt Julia.” And 
putting his lips to Thursday’s ear, 
Bobby whispered: “This is your big 

[191] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

chance, old sport. Aunt Julia’s lost her 
bag, and if you could find it, she might 
let me keep you. Will you try?” 

Thursday rolled over and over on the 
grass, barking loudly. He didn’t know 
what Bobby wanted, but he knew he 
would try to do it. 

“I’ll see if I can find it. Aunt Julia,” 
and Bobby started off on a run, Thurs¬ 
day at his heels, sniffing and nosing into 
everything. They had gone about a 
quarter of a mile, but there was no sign 
of the bag. They were in front of Mrs. 
Warner’s house, a friend of Aunt Ju¬ 
lia’s, when Thursday suddenly stopped, 
and looked in the yard. Bobby called 
to him, but he didn’t move. Yes, this 
Was the place where he had chased a 
black cat out from those bushes grow- 

[192] 


T hursday 

ing around the piazza. How that cat 
could run! And perhaps she was in 
there now! Thursday made a dive up 
the walk, followed by Bobby. 

“Hello, Bobby,” said Mrs. Warner, 
coming out to speak to him. “Did you 
come on an errand?” 

“Not exactly,” said Bobby, removing 
his cap. “But Aunt Julia has lost her 
bag, and I’m trying to find it.” 

“She stopped here on her way home, 
and I’m sure she had it then. Bobby, 
is that a dog chasing my cat?” cried 
Mrs. Warner, as she noticed something 
moving in the bushes. 

Before Bobby could answer, Thurs¬ 
day backed out, dragging and shaking 
the lost bag, which he dropped at 
Bobby’s feet. 


C193] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

“Oh, Mrs. Warner!” shouted Bobby. 
“He’s got it! He’s got it!” And he 
proudly held it up for her to see. 

“I remember now, she changed her 
bundles from one arm to the other,” said 
Mrs. Warner, “and she must have 
dropped it then. I’m glad your dog 
found it; but I didn’t know you had a 
dog, Bobby!” 

Bobby sat down on the steps, and drew 
Thursday between his knees. “He’s a 
tramp dog, Mrs. Warner, and Aunt 
Julia said I could keep him a week. 
To-day’s the last day!” he concluded, 
resting his cheek on his hand, in a 
hopeless way. 

Mrs. Warner leaned down, and patted 
Bobby’s shoulder. 

“Let me take the bag, sonny!” Mrs, 
Warner opened it, and pulled out a roll 

[194] 



Thursday backed out, shaking the lost bag.—P age 193 , 



































T hursday 

of bills, which she hastily counted. 

“Sixty-eight dollars!” she exclaimed. 
“Why, that bag might have stayed in 
those bushes until next spring. Bobby, 
I think your dog has found a home. 
But hurry, for your Aunt Julia will be 
worrying!” 

Bobby sprang up eagerly, took the 
bag, and whistling to Thursday, started 
for home on the run. “Good-by and 
good luck!” called Mrs. Warner. 

Aunt Julia was setting the table when 
Bobby went in, the bag tucked inside his 
coat. 

“Well, I didn’t expect you would find 
it,” she said. “You may carry Thurs¬ 
day’s supper out to him, and then we’ll 
have ours.” 

Bobby tried hard not to laugh! As 
soon as Aunt Julia left the room, he 

[195] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

slipped the bag into her chair. And 
when Aunt Julia pulled out her chair, 
she sat right down on the bag. 

“You should have seen how funny 
she looked!” laughed Bobby, when he 
was telling Joey about it. 

Aunt Julia got up quickly, and hold¬ 
ing up the bag, said rather severely: 

“Why, Bobby, you didn’t say you had 
found it.” 

“You didn’t ask me. Aunt Julia. 
And I didn’t find it, Thursday did!” 

“Thursday! That dog! Where?” 

Then Bobby told her all about it. 
She opened the bag slowly and counted 
the money. Yes, it was all there, and 
the dog was some good, after all. She 
almost wished Bobby would tease to 
keep him, but she knew he wouldn’t for 

[196] 


T hursday 

he had promised not to make a “fuss” 
when the week was up. 

As Thursday thought he had been an 
outsider long enough, he came to the 
screen door, and whined. Then Aunt 
Julia did a most surprising thing! She 
went to the door, and opened it wide. 

“Come in, Thursday, I guess you are 
one of the family now!” Picking up 
the roll of bills, she handed one to 
Bobby. 

“To-morrow, you may take Thursday 
into town, and buy him a nice collar, 
and have his name put on it,—so we 
can’t lose him,” she added, trying not 
to smile. 

“You’re going—to—let me—^keep 
him. Aunt Julia?” asked Bobby, as 
though he could hardly believe it. 

[197] 


The Happy-Thought Story Book 

“Of course, Bobby!” she answered, 
just as if she had really meant to all the 
time. 

Bobby knew he was the happiest boy 
in all the world, as he ran over to tell 
Joey the good news. 

That night, before Aunt Julia put out 
the lights, she tiptoed into Bobby’s 
room. He was fast asleep, and curled 
up beside him was the little dog who had 
found a home. Thursday opened one 
eye, half expecting to be sent out; but a 
warm hand was laid on his head, and a 
very kind voice said: 

“You may stay, Thursday, because 
Bobby keeps you so clean; and I believe 
I do like dogs, after all.” 

Had Bobby been awake, he would 
have said, “If a dog could talk. Aunt 

[198] 


T hursday 

Julia, Thursday would say, ‘And I like 
you, too.’ ” 

But as Thursday couldn’t talk, he 
simply closed his eye, and with a grate¬ 
ful sigh, settled himself for a long nap. 

THE END 


[199] 






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